The World Is Not Enough: Ashes of Eden
by Mercedes Aria
Summary: [Illusions of Reality] Drip...drip...drip... Sequel to Tourniquet. JMPR and LM possibilities. Reviews much appreciated.
1. The Invitation

_All standard disclaimers apply. The Pretender is the property of Steven Long Mitchell and Craig van Sickle. Non-canon characters belong to author._

_Summary: In a Centre where lies and deception are the mainstay, hope is a mirage and happiness is a delusion…_

_Ashes of Eden is the second story in The World Is Not Enough series. It will be beneficial to read the back-story in Tourniquet. _

_This story is dedicated to all my faithful readers of Tourniquet- it is because of your support and encouragement that this story was born. I hope you enjoy this! _

_Set prior to the episode "'Til Death Do Us Part"._

* * *

**Prologue: The Invitation**

It was gracefully reclined against the spines of several dark tomes that sat in the center of the desk. It had been there since its owner had put it there in the wee hours of the morning and now it awaited the arrival of its recipient.

Nearly an hour later, the office entrance opened allowing a sliver of light to skitter into the shrouded room. The silhouette of a tall, slimman was outlined against the glass of the door for a long instance as he stood in the dark deep in thought. Finally, with a quick movement, he flipped on a light and swung around to the opposite side of the desk.

It was then that he saw it sitting there sheathed in a posh pearlized paper. Haughtily gazing up at him was his name, elegantly embossed on the facade of the item. He froze and stared at the envelope, all his senses alert to a possible entrapment. With slow deliberation, he finally opened the correspondence. Inside was an ornate invitation- a wedding invitation. The delicately imprinted Japanese characters down the right side caught his attention: peace, love, and happiness. He frowned and his eyes fell back to the verse inscribed on the pristine whiteness of the center of the card. Color fled his face, leaving it pallid and sickly.

Sudden, intense emotion invaded him- emotions he had walled off long ago. He dropped the invitation before the compulsion to destroy the paper overwhelmed him. Once he was able to reign in his sentiments enough to see, he picked up the invite in a huff and stormed out of the office.

Blindly, he swept though the halls of the Centre in a rage, until he reached his destination. But he had forgotten that Mr. Parker was still MIA. He burst into the office to find himself fastened to the spot by the trenchant glare of Mr. Cox. The black chair behind the expansive swiveled around revealing the depreciatory smirk of Mr. Raines, who had made himself at home in the chairman's office.

The first words out of his mouth were expletives and he hurled the card at them. It landed directly in front Raines, who's slimy smile only widened.

The corners of Cox's mouth turned upward. "I see you've received the invitation, Mr. Lyle. Congratulations."


	2. You Are Cordially Invited

_**AN:** I was going to wait about a week before posting the next part of the prologue, but I just couldn't wait. I'm glad that you guys like the sequel so far; I think you're going to be surprised by the twists and turns that this will take._

_**phi4858:** You're right about this being a strange wedding and it's about to get stranger. I'm glad you're still reading!_

_**Gemini and Rem-Cycle:** I'm thrilled you both are still reading and I hope you both are still writing- I'm looking forward to more tP fics from you! hint, hint_

* * *

**You Are Cordially Invited…**

The invitation that had caused such an uproar was now lying sedately on pile of papers while it recipient tossed and turned, tremendously disturbed. It was a wedding invitation and nothing moreand yet its content were enough to disrupt the sleep of the reader for a very long time.

It read:

****

****

_**The Centre**_

_**Requests the honour of your presence**_

_**At the marriage of**_

_**The Under-Director**_

_**Mr. Lyle**_

_**This Saturday**_

_**At St. Patrick's Cathedral**_

_**New York, New York**_


	3. Beautiful Stranger

_AN: Wow! When I get those kinds of reviews I know I'm doing something right! Summer classes have started now and crafting the story will take longer as we get further into it, I'll try to update as frequently as possible._

_Lyrics by Madonna and Fred Ebb._

_Quote in single quotations from the episode "The World Is Changing"._

_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Beautiful Stranger**_

_Marriage is not a word; it is a sentence. - King Vidor _

_

* * *

__It was dark where she woke up. For a moment she was disoriented and confused; her head throbbed and her pulse raced, as though she had been sudden awaken from a deep sleep. She lifted her head and found she could move no further. Disorientation gave way to fear as she realized that she was strapped to the table she was lying on. _

_A thousand thoughts flew through her head without any time to stick to her consciousness. A door opened and a shaft of light stole into the room. Footsteps clicked across the tiled floor. _

"_Good afternoon," a crisp, cultured voice greeted her. "I see our Sleeping Beauty is finally awake."_

_She felt ice-cold hands on her wrists as they undid her restraints. The instant she was released she sprang from the metal table and flung herself at the door- it was locked. Wild-eyed and terrified, she backed against the wall in a defensive position. _

"_Relax, we are not going to hurt you," his voice was chilling and empty. Artic blue eyes gazed unblinkingly at her from beneath ebony lashes._

"_What do you want?" she hazarded; her voice shook uncontrollably._

_He arched a dark eyebrow. "We have decided to give you another chance. You will be reeducated and retrained. This," he made a sweeping gesturing in the air, "will be your new home."_

"_Why do you want me? Why me?"_

_The man said nothing; he only smiled a peculiar, secretive smile. Finally, he spoke, "We will begin simulations tomorrow morning."_

_The girl glared at him, suddenly defiant. "And if I refuse?"_

_He looked at her with barbed condemnation. "If you refuse there is a cemetery plot awaiting you."_

_She shrank away from him._

"_Now," he said viciously. "Come with me."_

_She demurely followed him into a long dark hallway. "Where are we going?"_

_The secretive smile returned to his lips. They walked on in silence._

_Their journey ended at the doors of a large office. On the other side of the doors waited a tall, eerie man with an oxygen tank. He did not look happy. _

"_So, Mr. Cox," the man wheezed, "this is the one they think shows so much potential?"_

_The other man inclined his head slightly._

"_Who's they?" she demanded. "Who are you?"_

"_You can call me Mr. Raines," he told her. "And they are the Triumvirate; they run the Centre and they own you."_

_She looked baffled- the names meant nothing to her. She shuddered involuntarily at the smile that Raines gave her._

"_We are family now," he went on in a manner that was meant to be cheerful. "And a 'family is a tyranny ruled by its weakest member'." His countenance darkened suddenly and he advanced on her. "Right now you are that member. If you want to remain a part of the family and remain alive, you will abide by our rules."_

_The overwhelming urge to retch swept over her as Raines ran a bony finger down her cheek. _

"_What do you remember of your past life?"_

_Her chin dropped to her chest and her stared unseeingly at her clasped hands as she bit her bottom lip hard. "Nothing," she admitted softly._

_Raines smiled and turned to Cox. Mr. Cox stepped towards the girl and held out a hand to her._

"_Let me refresh your memory- your name is Melpomene."_

_

* * *

Mr. Lyle was __not _a happy man. He did not approve of arranged marriages, unless of course, he was the one doing the arranging. He also had an unpleasant sinking feeling about a marriage put together by Cox and Raines. Not only that, he was a bit suspicious about how chummy the two men were becoming with each other.Mr. Lyle was a happy man. He did not approve of arranged marriages, unless of course, he was the one doing the arranging. He also had an unpleasant sinking feeling about a marriage put together by Cox and Raines. Not only that, he was a bit suspicious about how chummy the two men were becoming with each other. 

"Tell me again why _marriage_ is necessary?" He tossed a disdainful glance at Cox who, along with Raines, was escorting him down the hall to the elevator.

"You'll be negotiating many critical contracts with new clients over the next several months and we want you to be the epitome of the family man," Cox exchanged an amused smile with Mr. Raines. The two appeared to indulge in a private joke.

Lyle rolled his eyes skyward, even grumpier than before. "Just as long as you don't expect me to have any kids," he muttered tetchily.

Cox's smile instantly evaporated. "Why would you mention children?"

The young man shot him a peculiar look. "What's with you?" he snapped, not bothering hide his aggravation. He tried to edge as far from Cox as possible without getting closer to Raines. "You said _family_ man," he went on dryly to point out his discontent with the situation. "Husband I can handle, but I don't," there was a note of finality of on the word, "_do_ Dad."

Cox chuckled in an almost relieved way and gave Lyle a smile even more plastic than normal. "Trust us. This all for the good of the Centre." He clapped a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Yes," Raines hissed in agreement. "Remember that, Lyle- this is for the Centre."

_But what's in it for me? _He wondered dourly, resisting the urge to shrug Cox's hand off. He straightened his tie with his right hand and a thought came to him. "Listen, if any of the new clients are heads of organized crime units how about getting Parker to do this? She got more digits to spare."

Cox laughed a coarse, hollow laugh. "Relax, Mr. Lyle," the words were more threatening than comforting and he dug his grip into the other man's shoulder. "This task will only be as difficult as you make it."

* * *

St. Patrick's Cathedral was an exquisite piece of architectural history. It was the largest decorated gothic-style Catholic Cathedral in the country and had been recognized throughout its history as a center of Catholic life in the nation. The church was certainly not unfamiliar to witnessing weddings; however, it had never witnessed a wedding quite like the one that was currently underway.

The wedding party consisted of Mr. Cox, Mr. Raines, Willie, and several other sweepers, all of whom seemed to be in a more jovial mood that necessary. The groom looked markedly uncomfortable in his charcoal wedding tuxedo.

Lyle was despondent, to say the least. Years of training sealed the nervous energy tightly below the surface so that he did not fidget, but he could not stop the beads of sweat from forming on his temples. His damaged hand ached to the point it was going numb from anxiety. His mind was tormented by images of the recent past- he did not want to go through with this insanity.

When the priest took his place, Lyle began to feel lightheaded. He glanced to his right and left, met by the steely gazes of the sweepers. There was no way out.

_For the good of the Centre, _he told himself. _This is_ f_or the good of the Centre. Which is ultimately is for my good…_

The strands of the "Wedding March" began to play on one of the Cathedral's three organs heralding the start of the marriage ceremony. He was beginning to feel completely ill as waves of irrational emotions crashed over him. An image finally broke through the walls he had built around his mind- an image of…

The doors to the sanctuary opened and Lyle saw his bride for the first time. His eyes traveled up the length of the richly embroidered gown and into the fearful gaze of his soon-to-be wife. Cox and Raines exchanged delighted smirks at their associate's ashen countenance. His reaction was more than they had hoped for.

Lyle could not take his eyes off of the young girl slowly marching towards him as though headed to her execution. His mind shut down when his throat began to burn. He was going to vomit.

* * *

"_These little town blues are melting away. I'll make a brand new start of it, in old New York! If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere- it's up to you, New York, New York!"_

He was singing again. He had the habit of singing that song when business was slow- and it usually was.

Kip Buchanan struck a charming smile for a middle-aged woman with too much makeup who bought a hot dog and bottled water from him because he was "hot". Kip had a vending cart near the entrance to Strawberry Fields in Central Park from which he sold standard concession items in order to pay his living expenses. Though the handsome, broad shouldered, blonde young man from the Midwest was never in shortage of female patrons, the income was never enough it seemed, once taxes and various fees were paid off. Lucky for him that he was at NYU on an athletic scholarship.

He had been in the City for nearly eight months and was beginning to get a little disillusioned. He had arrived from central Illinois starry-eyed with an appetite for excitement and adventure, neither of which he encountered yet. He was starting to see that Manhattan was like any other big city- noisy, crowded, overwhelming and under-whelming at the same time. Perhaps he had seen _Oliver and Company_ one too many times for he had arrived in the City expecting something big to happen right away. He knew he had moxie, talent and drive; he knew he could do big things if given the opportunity.

Kip wanted to be an actor; first on Broadway then on the silver screen, but, he discovered, so did everyone else. He _was_ a bit ahead of the game he reminded himself- he had accrued a tidy resume doing theatre in Chicago several summers in a row. However, that did little to console him as he worked for barely above minimum wage while waiting for his big break. To make matters worse, the monotony of the mundane was stifling- school, work, work, school- day in and day out and that was it. Despite having a pile of girls' phone numbers accumulating under his mattress, Kip wasn't dating anyone since he had found that the New York girls were falling radically short of his expectations and standards. And so his life remained boring and dull. He hadn't even so much as witnessed a mugging. His days continued to trudge by at a staggeringly slow pace.

Until two weeks later…

_**Haven't we met? You're some kind of beautiful stranger… You could be good for me… I've had the taste for danger… **_

Kip was trying to pass the time with his co-workers and fellow students, Anthony and Sierra. Anthony, a slight twenty-year-old from Russia, was busy doodling on a napkins as customers watched. Sierra was ignoring the patrons all together and doing her best to flirt with the uninterested Kip. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty- dark-haired and curvy, she was very attractive; or sweet- she was that too. She was just too normal; too safe for Kip's taste- he wanted drama and mystery. He smiled wanly at her.

Turning away from Sierra, he saw the most marvelously beautiful girl.

She wandering through the throng of tourists like a lost child. Heads turned in her direction, wolf whistles rang out; Kip wasn't the only one who had noticed her.

_Holy cow! _Was all that rattled through the boy's head. There was no other way to describe her.

She was petite with a slim dancer's figure that curved in all the right places and had _Little Mermaid_ length hair. Kip had never seen hair quite like hers before. It was the hue of a sunset back home, but the color seemed to move on its own as though it were alive. When the sunlight hit it, her hair seemed to be on fire.

He was completely smitten.

Kip tried to get her attention, but she never once looked at him. She was intensely preoccupied with the empty bench before her. Her manner was strange, confused even; she didn't seem to comprehend the environment around her.

"Hey, check out the damsel in distress!"

Kip was suddenly aware of Anthony's presence next to him. He frowned and grabbed his friend's arm.

"Where are you going?"

Anthony gave his friend a quizzical look. "To lend assistance to the fair maiden," he said trying shake off Kip's grip. "What are _you _doing?"

There was a slight scuffle between the two boys with Kip finally emerging as the victor. He left Anthony and an annoyed Sierra behind and jogged over to the now seated beauty. People began to gather as the handsome boy came to the beautiful girl. They were so perfect that some wondered if a movie was being filmed. They drew closer. Her oddly colored eyes were enormous- their color and size were enhanced by the deep tan of her skin. They were wild and panicky as they surveyed the mounting crowd.

Kip loved the fact that they had an audience- he was finally getting the drama he longed for. The problem was that the one person he wanted to be drawn to him was the one person who had yet to see him. As he neared her he saw that she sat on the very edge of the bench with her hands out before her, regarding them as though they were some foreign objects she had never seen before.

_She's a dream, _Kip decided, _a living breathing dream! _His body tingled with a strange sensation as he sat down next to her. He found it difficult to breath- he felt like he was drowning. He tried to regain his senses and gather his courage to speak to her, but it was disconcerting that she still hadn't noticed him. In his most gentle and comforting voice he asked, "Is everything okay, Miss? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The crowd leaned in as she finally lifted her head. Kip inhaled sharply when her incredible stormy gray eyes locked onto his hazel ones. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make some sense of his presence. Her eyes closed briefly and she reached out suddenly and grabbed onto his arm. Kip could not stop grinning as the crowd "aww-ed" at the sight of them.

His dream girl did not smile; she merely clung to him for dear life. After awhile, her mouth began to move, but her lips had trouble forming words. "I-I," her voice was so drained by fear it was difficult to hear her. "I can't find…" She took her hand back abruptly.

Kip saw she had no purse or any other belongings with her and assumed that must be what she had lost. Maybe she had been the victim of a mugging. She was so afraid and lost that it was all Kip could do not to gather her in his arms and hold her.

"What's your name?" he asked kindly.

She looked up at him sharply as though just realizing that he was there. Her eyes were stormier than before- more disturbed and almost liquefied. Near tears, she shook her head numbly and shrugged hopelessly.

"I don't know," her whole body shook. "I don't know my name."

_**If I'm smart then I'll run away, but I'm not so I guess I'll stay… Heaven forbid, I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger… **_

Two feelings came over Kip at that moment: he was delighted- he finally had his mystery; but he was also guilty over that delight.

_It must be terrifying not to know who you are_. Kip knew he would have been scared out of his mind.

The crowd, however, was not as accepting as Kip. The word spread quickly about the possible amnesia case. People began to gossip with strangers about the peculiar girl. The throng that surrounded the pair swelled, incalculably fixated on the unfolding drama.

"Amnesia?" harrumphed an ill-tempered woman. "Right. And I'm the Queen of England! Puh-leeze. I'll bet the girl is some actress and this is all some twisted play of hers."

Sierra left Anthony to watch the cart, even though there was no business. This little vixen who was stealing Kip right from under her nose supremely annoyed her. Sierra didn't believe the girl's story either and thought she was some lunatic who got some demented thrill out of preying on the sympathy of unsuspecting people.

_I wonder if the state hospital is missing any inmates…_

The raven-trussed girl's dark eyes narrowed as she watched Kip gather the slender hands of the impossibly beautiful girl who was everything Sierra was not- fragile, vulnerable, needy. Kip ate up neediness in a girl- he loved to play the hero. Sierra unequivocally hated the girl.

Kip, on the other hand, was unequivocally in love with the girl.

_**I looked into your eyes and my world came tumbling down… You're the devil in disguise… If I'm smart then I'll run away, but I'm not so I guess I'll stay… Haven't you heard? I fell in love with a beautiful stranger…**_

"Amnesia?" Sierra scoffed loud enough for the front of the crowd to hear her. "She's faking it!"

The crowded began to turn on the girl spurred on by Sierra. The jealous girl continued to viciously harass the other girl. Kip tensed and frowned ready to lunge at Sierra.

_What is wrong with her!_

The girl lifted her charcoal eyes to Kip and he could clearly read her terror. She was afraid- afraid of Sierra, the crowd, and… him.

_She's afraid of me! _His heart sank. She could be afraid of the whole world, just as long as she wasn't afraid of him. _The amnesia is real- this is no game! She fears us as if we were going to stone her. Why shouldn't she- she has no idea who she is, let alone who we are._

"I bet I can guess your name," Sierra sneered. She plopped her hands on her hips and leaned into the girl's face.

"Shut up!" Kip hissed. He looked prepared to strike her.

Sierra's cheeks flushed, but she had gone too far to stop. The crowd began to throw out names. The girl's hands went over her ears trying to shut out the voices. She curled her knees to her chest and began to rock back and forth. Sierra's voice went silent as she studied the girl. Before she had only seen face and figure, but now she saw something more. This girl _was_ someone, Sierra could tell by the expensive casual clothes she wore. What bothered Sierra most was that she had no possessions. Who traveled anywhere without something?

_Where did you come from?_

Kip wrapped his arms around his mystery girl to protect her from the onslaught of names that the mass threw at her. He stared at her vast eyes.

_Who are you?_

_**I looked into your face my heart was dancing all over the place… I'd like to change my point of view if I could just forget about you…**_


	4. Ojos Asi

_AN: I am very happy to see that you all are enjoying the sequel so far! It seems like the gears are turning to figure out what's going on- good! _

_**Imag1ne**: I am flattered- thank you!_

_**Phi4568**: I love that you so many questions- a lot were raise in the last chapter weren't they? I promise to answer them all in due time. We will see what was so disturbing to Lyle at his wedding in flashbacks. As for Sierra and Kip- they really are what they seem to be: two typical college kids about to get into a whole heap of trouble! _

_**Wondergirl**: Hey! It's great to hear from you again. Thank you for the kind words._

_**Leochick**: I got your review for Tourniquet and it made me blush- I really appreciate you reviewing and am happy to see you enjoyed it so much. Yeah, Lyle getting married- heh, poor guy. I wonder what his sister will have to say about that? Hmm…_

_**Gemini-M**: While we won't see Lyle's wedding as it happens, we will see it from his and his bride POV in detail later on. I know, I know, it's kind of lousy to do it that way- but it just works out better. I don't want to say much else and give anything way, but I will say one thing: Nice observations;)_

_**Rev2004**: We can't forget Miss Parker can we? She plays a significant role for sure; it's just that she'll be entering in a little later on- these initial chapters are setting up for the big story._

_Just a brief note to clarify when this story is occurring: This chapter is set fourth season just prior to and during "Rules of Engagement". The rest of the story will be spread out of the rest of the fourth season up to at least the first Pretender movie (still working out the details as where I'm ending it). I will always let you know what episode is involved, especially if I deal with any scene directly from an episode. Hopefully, that will all make sense later on. _

_These first few chapters are setting up the primary conflicts that are at the heart of the story, so Jarod may not be putting in many appearances right away. But don't worry, our Pretender won't stay away for long…_

_Lyrics by Shakira. (Ojos Asi- Eyes Like Yours)_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Ojos Asi **

"I thought I told you that I didn't want to be disturbed." She was greatly agitated, but he also caught the tiredness that seeped into her words.

"I know, Miss Parker," Broots was incredibly grateful that he wasn't in the same room with her. "But I found something I though you should know about."

Parker switched the receiver to the other ear. "Go on."

"I was following Cox again like you asked. I really wish you wouldn't make me do this. I mean, the guy freaks me out even worse than Raines and he's pretty-"

"Broots!" A hand went to her head and she held her temples tightly between her thumb and forefinger trying to stop the throbbing than had been troubling her for the better part of an hour. "I am _really_ not in the mood for a diatribe."

"S-sorry, Miss Parker," Broots gulped. "Anyway, it seems that Cox and Raines are pretty tight these days."

"What a merry little trio that must be," Parker replied wryly. "The Ghoul, the Undertaker, and the Boogeyman."

"Oh, no, Miss Parker, Lyle isn't a part of this."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it seems more and more like Cox is working for Raines- Lyle's been practically shut out. But that's not what I called you about."

"What then?"

"Well, Cox and Raines have been having these meeting for the past couple of weeks that last for hours. I saw them come out of one those meetings just about twenty minutes ago."

"And?"

"And Willie was carrying a really big stack of files and he dropped a paper from one of them."

Parker sat up, suddenly very interested. "What's it about?"

"Not sure," Broots replied. "It was just a corner of a larger document. It was splattered in a red substance and said ARES on it."

"Great, another murder mystery," Parker muttered. "Broots, find out what the red stuff is and everything you can about this ARES thing."

"Oh," Broots sounded disheartened. "Oh, okay."

Parker replaced the receiver on its base and leaned back in her chair. She wasn't so sure she really wanted to know what ARES was- there were enough unanswered questions drifting about; she certainly didn't need anymore.

Her gaze wandered from the photograph of her mother to one of her father. Inhaling deeply, Parker closed her eyes and tried to focus her clouded thoughts.

_Where are you, Daddy?_

* * *

Two weeks had passed since his surprise wedding and Lyle was just as malcontented with the entire situation as he had been fourteen days earlier. He was still feeling rather ill over the whole circumstance. The image of Raines with his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin was seared into his memory much to his chagrin and it did not aid his recovery any. He turned in chair slightly and stared at the phone that was ringing insistently. He left hand sweated in its leather encasing and his third finger itched under the weight of it platinum manacle.

"This is Lyle."

"Have you found her yet, Mr. Lyle?"

The sound of Cox's voice caused him to ground his teeth together. "Not yet."

"Then I suggest you get out of your office and look for her."

"I was just reviewing possible location that she might be," he offered lamely in explanation.

There was a pause, before an unsatisfied Cox responded. "Perhaps a little active searching would yield better results."

"I'm sure it would and I am working on it."

"You'd better be, Mr. Lyle. It will go much better for you both if you are the one to bring her back."

* * *

_**Oh, you know I have seen a sky without sun, a man with no nation…**_

She was regarding Sierra with a confused countenance as though she did not understand the acidic words that were coming out of her mouth. She certainly did not understand why the girl was making fun of her.

Kip's arms instinctively went encircled the mystery girl's shoulders in a protective manner. His handsome face was clouded with anger. "Shut up, Sierra!" he scolded. The sudden spike in his volume startled the girl in his arms. He glared at Sierra while trying to calm his rattled girl.

"What's going on here?"

The crowd's attention shifted to the new player in the drama who suddenly made his presence known. Sierra, Kip, and the girl all followed their gaze.

The man who strode through the center of the throng was tall and slim. He looked like a diplomat whose life was consumed by difficult, demanding situations. His black collar was buttoned down and his cuffs were held by gold links. His tie was dark hunter green- a tie that boasted of his importance. He repeated his query quietly and Kip noticed how sharp and crisp his diction was. Though visibly impressed by the man, Kip was also overcome with worry.

Tightening his hold on the girl, he leveled his gaze with the man's. "The young lady," he was very careful about his phrasing, "seems to be having some difficulty with her memory."

The man stared at Kip, his composure shaken. Slowly, he returned his gaze to the girl. "Amelia, what is he talking about?"

_**Saints captive in chains, a song with no name for lack of imagination…**_

Kip couldn't deny that the drama was becoming even more interesting now that this elegant man had something to with his girl. And Kip was elated that his girl now had a name, but he was disappointed that his turn as hero was over. He was also sick that this man might take her away from him, as he wasn't quite sure how this act would end.

The girl did not react to the man's question or the mention of her name.

Kip ripped his eyes away from the man and turned to her. "Amelia?"

Amelia did not respond. Her anxiety moved to a new level.

_Amelia, _thought Sierra huffily. _What an uptown name. _Her gaze slipped over to Kip and she hoped that the man would take Amelia away.

The girl swept that sunset fire hair off of her face, hanging onto to the hair as she stood up. She felt Kip move with her, but she was oblivious to him. Remaining silent, she miserably shook her head.

The man looked at her for a very long time. Even though he wasn't looking at Kip, the young man began sweat under the scrutiny and shifted nervously. As he did, his arm fell off of the girl's shoulder and down around her waist where he let it stay. Unfortunately, the movement brought Kip under the man's scrutiny. Ever so slightly, the man frowned.

"This," he said pointedly to Kip without actually looking at him, "is my _wife_."

_**Oh, you know I seen a woman of means in rags and begging for pleasure… Crossed a river of salt just after I rode a ship that's sunk in the desert…**_

_His wife? _Kip stared incredulously. He must have misunderstood- she couldn't be married! No, she had to be this man's sister, cousin, anything else. Kip could not accept that the girl of his dreams was a married woman.

"Come on, Amelia," her husband said, reaching for her. "We'll go inside and talk about this." He took her by the arm, but she jerked free as though she had been burned.

Smothering a yelp, she backed up, pressing against Kip's broad chest. It was then that Kip saw the most condemning piece of evidence supporting the man's claim: the massive, at least 4-carat, princess- cut platinum engagement ring and matching band on her left ring finger. His heart sank. Feeling ill, Kip forced himself to look for a similar band on the man's left hand, but the hand was concealed in a pocket.

The ever-growing crowd, initially enthralled by the turn of events, was now prepared to protect the girl if this man attempted to harm her. Most were still uncertain if the man, the girl, and the entire scene could be taken at face value- some wondered if this wasn't all for a movie or a publicity stunt.

"I don't know what's happened to me," her voice gurgled as she was near tears. "If you are my husband I don't remember you!"

… _**And I have seen darker than ebony…**_

It was then that husband became aware of the people who had congregated to watch. He shifted, uncomfortable with the attention, and restricted his already controlled features so his thoughts were not perceivable by the onlookers.

"Amelia, this has gone too far." There was a hint of a sigh in his voice. "Was it really necessary to do this to me in public?"

The girl shuddered in a completely authentic response. Her husband was not moved.

"I don't know what you hope to get from this," he continued. "But you can discuss it with your doctor tomorrow. Right now we have to get back. There are a lot of people worried about you- we've spent hours searching for you!"

"But I don't know you!" she cried in a sudden outburst. Absently, she twisted the rings that seemed to bear no significance to her.

Sierra could feel the man's repugnance of the openness of the situation. He clearly hated being entertainment for the crowd.

"My wife is simply making a scene," he explained quietly to the spectators. "I thank you all for your concern. However, I regret to inform you that my wife is a spoiled child who cannot go a day without drama. Although," his voice broke here, "I never expected her to claim amnesia and put on such a display for you all."

Sierra was amazed by the man's ability to control the people without looking at them; how he hooked them on his every word. Sierra was mesmerized by the man and shocked by the immaturity of his wife. _What kind of nasty little family do these people have? _Even Kip baulked she saw. _Good, maybe now he'll fall out of love with Miss Amnesia! _

_**And now it seems that I without your eyes could never be: my one desire, all I aspire is in your eyes forever to live… traveled all over the seven oceans there is nothing that I wouldn't give…**_

The husband's attention shifted back to his wife. "Where's your purse, Amelia?"

She looked at him blankly and Kip stepped in. He was still suspicious of the man.

"She lost it," he said.

The man arched an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"She told me so."

The husband tightened his lips; he obviously did not care for Kip.

"Kip Buchanan," Kip introduced himself, extending his hand.

The man ignored him and turned to Amelia. "Let's go home and figure this out- the car's waiting."

Amelia did not move and Kip was barely able to contain himself. He afraid to let go of Amelia, but he was also afraid of the man whom he was beginning to suspect was quite powerful. Kip remained between the two, keeping Amelia in his custody. In an attempt to take control of the scene from the man, Kip inhaled deeply and locked gazes with the other player.

"What is your name, sir?"

The man stared at him as though shocked by the audacity of the question. Obviously, he did not consider Kip important enough to give his name to. Kip tried another tactic. He was as tall as the man and much stronger. He took a chest expanding breath to demonstrate that truth to his rival.

"I wonder if we could see some proof of your relationship to the young lady, sir."

The man was incredulous with Kip's brazenness. If he was stunned to find his wife pretending to have amnesia, he was truly shocked that some muscle-bound college punk was demanding proof of his identity. He gave Kip the reprimanding look that parents give to their children when they exhibit bad manners. He did not so much as give Kip a glimpse of a wedding band- his left hand remained firmly in his pocket.

"You've been extremely kind to my wife," he said, placing heavy emphasis on the last word. His tone was manifestly grimmer. With one lingering dark look in Kip's direction, he looked back at his wife and extended his right hand to her. The instant she lifted a hesitant hand, he enveloped it in his and led her to a waiting black limousine. The girl said nothing to Kip as she docilely followed her spouse; she did not even look back at him.

The crowd, satisfied with the ending, dispersed leaving a heartbroken Kip and pessimistic Sierra behind. Anthony watched his friends, happy not to have been involved in the soap opera.

Sierra sighed and huffed her heavy bangs out of her eyes, feeling a bit out of sorts after that surreal scene. It made sense, oddly enough, that a girl that beautiful would be wealthy. And it made sense that a man like that would be her husband- distinguished, worldly, older. She sighed again, wondering if she would ever live among the elite. Turning back to her job at the concession cart, Sierra's heart sank when she saw Kip bemoaning the loss of his dream girl to Anthony. She would give anything to trade places with the girl- waiting for Kip was pointless.

_**Came from Bahrain, got to Beirut looking for someone comparing to you- tearing down windows and doors and I could not find eyes like yours…**_

_

* * *

Inside the luxury car, Amelia sat stiffly besides her husband. She could feel his humiliation, his anguish. It shamed her to look at him and see the tiredness in his features. His cool demeanor was gone replace by weariness and frustration. He stretched out his long frame haphazardly discarding his suit jacket across the seat nearby._

"Do you have any idea how worried I was about you, Mia?" he asked quietly.

She almost didn't realize he was speaking to her. _Mia? Mia must be a nickname…?_

"What if they had found you first?" he swore under breath. "What a mess that would have been!"

She said nothing; she just sat there dumbly with her hand clasped in her lap. She felt incredibly guilty about all the grief she had caused him. Like a tempest, her thoughts churned in her head making feeble attempts to make sense of everything. But she could get nothing out of it. She could connect nothing together.

Staring at her folded hands, she finally managed to make a sound. "Are you really my husband?"

He gave her a sidelong look before sighing. He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and stretched it out to her. She caught a glimpse of platinum metal in her periphery vision, but her mind did not register the ring on his finger. She looked up and caught his gaze with a worried expression.

"What happened to your thumb?"

* * *

_**Chapter 3 Preview-**_

_**While Amelia struggles to remember the past, Jarod encounters an enterprising youth with a dangerous plan.**_


	5. Jump! They Say

_**AN**: The questions keep popping up, don't they? ;) Thank you for your reviews! I've broken this chapter into two parts in order to get it out quicker, so for everyone looking for Jarod and Miss Parker in bigger roles- hang on! _

_**LJP**: She should know him that is true- good observation. In order to answer your questions, we have to look at why Mia is back at the Centre and what Cox and Raines did/are doing to her. And we will… soon. ;) Oh, and welcome to the fold; glad to have you._

_**Rev2004**: Continuing on… :)_

_**Gemini-M**: Poor Kip is right- he's headed for some serious trouble! Some of your questions will be answered in this chapter; others will be answered…soon!_

_**Phi4858**: You could never bore me with your questions! Can't say too much- don't want to give anything away, but Jarod has not yet met Kip or his friends. He is currently in Illinois as Miss Parker is about to find out…_

_**Imag1ne**: Thank you- I'm glad you liked who the "husband" turned out to be._

_**Leochick**: I wonder if anyone thought it was Cox who caught Amelia- I almost went in that direction._

_**Wondergirl**: Thank you! ;)_

_Lyrics by David Bowie_

_Chapter occurs during "Rules of Engagement" in the fourth season. Sections marked + denote a scene from an actual episode. Dialogue might have a word or so off- some of the words were hard to understand (I transcribed from VHS tapes). I turned up the volume only to be blasted by the music later on!_

_

* * *

**Chapter 3: "Jump!" They Say**_

"Hello, Melpomene." Mr. Cox's grin was grotesque. He held out his hand to her. "We're going out," he announced, watching her reaction closely.

She regarded him warily, unsure of whether to bite him or hide from him. "Out?" It sounded like a trap.

"Dinner," his voice was too smooth, too reserved. "But first we need to find you something suitable to wear."

Three hours later, she was dining in one of the ritziest places she'd ever been, at least as far as she could remember. Mr. Cox had taken her to the theatre before dinner and she was still swimming from all the glamour and splendor that had intoxicated for the better part of two hours. It was a sweet change from running Simulations in the bowels of the Centre. She sighed dreamily.

They were waiting for dessert to be brought out when Cox, who had eaten little, leaned close to her- too close.

"Do you see the gray-haired man in the three-piece suit?" His breath was hot and weighty on her neck. Unwillingly, she scanned the patrons and zeroed in on the man in question. She nodded.

"The man has a computer chip concealed in the inner pocket of his dinner jacket. Get it. Use any means necessary to retrieve it."

"B-but I," she could string a coherent thought together. She was stunned. _I must not be out of the Centre after all, _she thought frantically trying to make sense of what she was being asked to do. _This is a Simulation- it has to be!_

"I have no weapons!"

"Any means necessary," he repeated placing imperative emphasis on each word. "Get the chip then head to the kitchen. There is a hallway to your immediate left. Take that and follow the hall to its end. There will be a door leading to the alley. A car will be waiting for you. Five minutes, Melpomene. Or we leave without you."

Dazed, she slowly shook her head side to side. "No, I can't do this. Please…"

"Five minutes. Wait until I leave if you would."

He disappeared before she could respond, leaving her with no options. Her eyes went back to the man and assessed the situation. He was slightly tipsy, sure to be off his game. As she stood, she slipped a steak knife into the folds of her skirt. Her training took over as she approached the target.

At first the man was flattered that such a pretty young thing would flirt with him. He pegged her as a tease but quickly found she was anything but. A searing pain penetrated the flesh between his fourth and fifth vertebrae.

"Give me the chip," she hissed into his ear. Her hair fell over his left shoulder, blocking them from the guest on that side of the room. From the distance, nothing seemed abnormal, but the man's dinner companions were shocked.

"My men are everywhere," he swore at her. "You won't get out of here alive."

In response, the knife slid further between the bones. The man fought not to cry out. "That'll make two of us, then. Give me the chip."

The man conceded and slowly opened his jacket and retrieved the chip. In a moment's time, she withdrew the weapon from the man and cast it aside. She quick, but so were his men. They were armed heavily but held their fire until they were away from the main reception area. Her training mode fell away as her survival mode took control. She followed Cox's exit directions, but there was no door at the end of the hall.

She was trapped. It had all been a set up.

The men were almost upon her and she could see no way out. Lighting was minimal so she searched the walls and floors for any exit. Her fingers caught on the grating of a ventilation shaft. Luck was with her, as the bolts of the grate had rusted through and she was able to pry it off. It was high- nearly two feet above her head. She barely had enough time to make a running jump and pull herself into the shaft before the hall was filled with gunfire. Scrambling through the ventilation system she had a strange sense of déjà vu. There was an outlet that exited into the alley.

The car was waiting as he said it would be.

She was livid when she got into the vehicle. Cox only chuckled amusedly.

"Did you get the chip?"

She handed it over, glaring murderously at him.

"Good girl."

"You set me up! I could have been killed!"

He arched an eyebrow at her, still smiling that devious smile. "But you weren't."

"That's not the point!"

"Ah, but it is," he patted her knee lightly. "Tonight was a success."

Tears pricked her eyes and she stared out of the window, watching the passing city lights.

_Tonight was a success… for whom?_

_

* * *

_+ Broots was rather pleased with himself and it showed in his smile. 

"Call Lyle," his boss directed as they prepared to leave.

"I already have- he's on his way."

Parker followed Sydney and Broots with a preoccupied grimace on her face. The abrupt ringing of her cell phone caused her jump slightly.

"What?"

"Angel? Angel, I have to see you."

She nearly had a coronary on the spot. "Daddy?" After all this time, after all she'd been through when she needed him most and now he was calling. She was torn between crying with relief that he was alive or hanging up on him for not contacting her sooner.

"I have to see you," he said again. "The junkyard by the Quentin Street Overpass."

She wasn't positive he had heard him correctly. "Well, Daddy…"

The connection had been severed.

"You look bothered, Miss Parker."

Parker whirled around and was slapped with another surprise- a very unpleasant one: Raines.

_What crevice did he slither out of? _It troubled her immensely that Raines might have overheard her conversation with her father- there was no telling how long he been there in the shadows.

"Don't you have a bake sale to organized?" As usual she didn't attempt to mask her contempt.

When Sydney and Broots reentered the room in search of their missing partner, the doctor knew instantly that something was wrong. Parker was standing alone in the middle of the area looking exceptionally disconcerted. His worry only increased when she announced that she had something to do- something other than pursuing Jarod.

"What about Jarod?" Broots hazarded, shooting a puzzled look to Sydney.

Sydney studied her bemusedly. "What about Lyle?"

She looked at them without seeing them. She had no excuse prepared, nothing plausible, not even any thing lame. "Buy me some time," was all she had.

Sydney sighed. Buying time from Lyle was not going to be easy. +

* * *

_**Cold fire- you've got everything but cold fire… You will be my rest and peace, child…I moved up to take a place near you…**_

When he received word that the search for Jarod had been delayed due to unspecified reasons he was actually relieved. It gave him enough time to escape to his apartment.

She was asleep when he came, just as she had been when he left hours before. Her face was marred by a deep frown and every so often she mewed plaintively.

He moved closer to the foot of the bed, apprehensive and ready to bolt. Timidly, he sat on the edge of the bed and just watched her.

_This isn't real…It can't be real…_

Her long hair was fanned out over two pillows. He smiled appreciatively. Or would have. In his anxiety, the smile didn't quite make it to his face.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to wake. When her eyes finally opened, it took several for her to focus on him. There was a pained intensity in her steel gray eyes, an indication of the headache throbbing between her ears.

"Mia?" His voice was hushed, almost timid. He had no way to predict how she would react to him and that left him open and vulnerable. She had been taken from him by Cox the second they arrived back in Blue Cove. Cox returned her to him thirty-six hours later under heavy sedation without so much as an explanation as to why her isolation was necessary.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to keep his features in focus. She wasn't quite sure who he was or why he looked afraid of her.

"Mia, please try to wake up."

The urgency in his voice triggered something in her haze-filled mind. She tried harder to concentrate on his features. From her point of view, everything was underwater and filled with smoke at the same time. She felt ill.

_**So tired- it's the sky that makes you feel tired… It's a trick to make you see wide… It can all but break your heart in pieces…**_

"Mia," his head dropped to his chest as his voice faded. Inhaling deeply, he tried again to talk to her. "I know you're tired, but can you remember what happened yesterday? Can you remember anything?"

Her eyes closed again but the frown remained. Several minutes passed and as they did anxiety and tension reached culmination. His head dropped to his chest again as his thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose trying to hold off the pressure building behind his eyes.

"Micelli."

"What?" He looked up sharply.

"My last name. I remember my last name."

"Well, it's a start," he muttered dolefully.

Typical Amelia, she instantly picked up that something was wrong. "Isn't that right?" she asked concerned.

_**Staying back in your memory are the movies in the past… How you moved is all it takes to sing a song of when I loved The Prettiest Star…**_

"Yeah," he conceded. "It's just that…" He ground his teeth together in annoyance. He should be satisfied that she was regaining something of her identity. However, it was a blow to his pride that she remembered her family name rather than her legal surname. "Micelli is your maiden name. Technically, your last name is Parker."

"Parker…" The name fell off her tongue with vague familiarity. She knew it, but could not attach significance to it. She groaned.

"I'm sorry." She stretched out a hand to him only to find that he was too far away and she didn't have the strength to move to reach him. "How long have we been married?"

"Almost three weeks," he replied flatly. He tipped his head back. "But you don't remember yesterday much less three weeks ago."

_**One day, though it might as well be someday, you and I will rise up all the way… All because of what you are: The Prettiest Star…**_

She felt responsible for her memory loss, whether it was reasonable feel that way or not. "I am so, _so _sorry." She exhaled a long breath as though trying to expel the air that had accumulated in her lungs for the past three weeks. "I feel like there's a wall in front of me and everything I know is on the other side- I just can't get over there. I wish I could remember, Bobby; I really do."

His posture straightened instantly. "What did you call me?"

"B-bobby… That's your name isn't it?" She worried that she had said something wrong. The name came to her from out of nowhere; she still didn't know him, only the name.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is." His shoulders slumped again.

Exhaustion from the mental strain was showing on her delicate features. Her eyelids dropped to half-mast; he was losing her again.

"What was our wedding like?"

He cringed. He didn't mean to; he just wasn't prepared for the question. Images flashed through his mind, as though glued to the pages of a flipbook- he wasn't ready to relive the event yet. "Get some rest," he answered, his voice too loud for his own ears. She couldn't hear him through mist of slumber. He rose abruptly, disturbing her. She started slightly out of the first stages of sleep. Guilty, he timidly touched her shoulder. Her head turned in his direction and he felt her relax. He carefully pulled the sheets up around her shoulders, still greatly perturbed.

A ringing brought him back from the mire of his thoughts. He quickly silenced the phone while crossing to the other side of the room.

"Lyle." His face paled. "Yes. Yes, I understand. I'll be there right away."

Rubbing the palm of his good hand over his mouth in distraction, he turned to look back at the sleeping beauty in his bed. With a dark foreboding weighing on his shoulders, Lyle picked up his jacket and left the room.

_**All because of what you are: The Prettiest Star…**_

* * *

+ There were some days when Broots thought that he would literally jump out of his skin at the drop of the pin. Today was one of those days. Right before Miss Parker left to run her mysterious errand, she left him with explicit instructions: 1) Buy her some time, 2) shadow Lyle's movements to make sure he wasn't following her, 3) answer her calls before the first ring finished ringing, and 4) keep tabs on Jarod. 

Broots wasn't confident that he and Sydney had gotten her adequately off the hook with Lyle. Her sibling seemed much too willing to excuse the delay on the Jarod hunt. And he wasn't doing a very good job with the rest of his list. So far he had nearly missed one of Miss Parker's calls and lost Lyle for a two-hour period. Now Lyle was back and Broots was hiding.

Then the phone rang.

"Shhh! Shhh!" he hissed at the screaming cell phone.

"Broots!" Miss Parker was harried and impatient. Broots got right to the point.

While informing his boss about the call he had placed to Chicago FBI about one of their agents in Fletcher Ridge and his suspicions on where Jarod was, Lyle appeared out of nowhere. Broots ducked further into his hiding hole, praying the Under-director would not see him.

"What about Lyle?" he asked in a strangled, hushed plea.

"Lyle who?" was all the help he received. The dial tone buzzed in his ears.

"Oh, boy," he gulped. Lyle was angrily marching in his direction followed by two young Asian beauties. +

* * *

"Get out." 

"But, Mr. Lyle…" one of the girls protested.

"Get out!"

"Wh-where?" she and her friend were baffled by his sudden mood change.

"I don't care just Get. Out!"

Under his killer glare, the girls scurried to obey him. Absently, picking up some papers that were neatly stacked on his desk, Lyle tried to remember under what circumstances he had met the girls and why they had been waiting for him at the Centre.

_Amnesia must be contagious, _he mused darkly as he could not remember any details about the girls that set them apart from any of the others.

The clock struck one and with a groan and a curse, he turned and headed back out the door to his father's former office.

They were waiting for him like wolves waiting for their prey. Rained was sitting at the desk with something that appeared to be rosary beads clutched in his hand. His mouth was twisted into a weird smile. Cox stood stoically nearby waiting for Lyle to settle himself in the chair across from Raines.

"You're late." Cox tetchily pointed out.

"I was busy."

"That's no excuse."

"I was doing," he snapped detesting the way in which Cox spoke to him, "what _you_ told me to do."

Cox ignored his attitude. "How is the subject doing?"

Resisting the urge to slug the man or worse, Lyle simply muttered under his breath, "The subject has a name."

Cox regarded him for a moment; he had heard the comment and was curious about it. "The status of the subject, _Mr. _Lyle. Has she remembered anything?"

Lyle was silent for a long moment before answering. "No," he said emphatically. "Nothing."

Cox straightened up and eyed him guardedly. "You have your instructions, correct?"

"Refresh my memory," he replied with a slight smile. "I seem to be having trouble with it."

"I would not be so glib about this, Mr. Lyle, if I were you." Cox was all but shaking with fury at the younger man's defiance. He glanced at Raines, who did nothing to help him.

"She's _my_ wife."

"She is _Centre_ property and you will do well to remember that. The marriage is a temporary condition and it would be a mistake to become emotionally attached to the subject."

"Don't you tell me how to handle a Project. I have much more experience with them than you!"

The situation was rapidly dissolving so Raines intervened. He rose from his seat and came around the desk to stand next to Lyle. The younger man recoiled slightly when Raines' hand attached itself to his shoulder.

"Mr. Lyle," the weird smile stretched out across his face. "This is for the good of the Centre. Trust us."

Lyle shrugged off the hand as he stood. Raines was beginning to sound like a broken record as of late. "Look," he cast a scathing look at Cox, "if you two are finished, we do have a Pretender to catch."

Cox's anger dissolved and a secretive smile played on his lips. "Yes, we do. Which reminds me, Mr. Lyle- where's your sister?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, realizing he had never bothered to find out why she suddenly bailed on the pursuit.

"Well," Cox stepped closer so that he was only inches away from Lyle, "Rumor has it that there is a solid lead on Jarod and no one has followed it up yet. If he gets away…"

"Don't threaten me," Lyle hissed back.

"Find your sister."

"She's not my responsiblity."

"She is now. Find her."

With a final glance at the two men, Lyle left the office as quickly as he could.


	6. A New Career In A New Town

_AN: Again many thanks to everyone who is reviewing and to everyone who is reading. For those reviewing: if I do not address some of the questions you have asked, it's not that I'm ignoring them or missed them it is simply because it would give away too much by responding._

_For anyone who has already read this chapter and wondering why it says the story has been updated, it's because I did some editing after finding some errors that were bugging me. Changes do not affect the story at all._

_**Imag1ne**: Thank you- my intent is to weave TWINE as seamlessly as possible into the Pretenderverse while exploring some of the many questions that were left unanswered throughout the course of the third and fourth seasons._

_**Gemini**: Lyle is having second thoughts indeed- particularly about Cox. _

_**Phi4858**: Your comment about devils not staying in hell was perfect! Mr. Parker will be resurfacing soon and Parker and Lyle both will discover some unsettling things about their father… As for Jarod, I did originally intend for him to be in the previous chapter, but it was getting long and I was getting tired. So rather than tacking our favorite Pretender on at the end, I decided to give him more of this chapter. _

_**LJP**: Lyle is definitely living a double life that we will take a look as the story goes on. Lyle's comment about having trouble with his memory was more sarcasm than anything else… at least for now ;) Yes, we will see Mia's grandmother and brother again and learn more about the Micelli family. Is there JMPR? Well… yes and no. The overtones will certainly be there like they were in Tourniquet. Beyond that, I really can't say;)_

_For those wondering about Cox's dinner companion in the previous chapter, here's bit of a hint: the Greek origin of her name (MELPOMENE) and the Greek origin of the Project name (ARES) are significant. _

_Chapter occurs during "Rules of Engagement" in the fourth season. Sections marked + denote a scene from an actual episode._

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 4: A New Career In A New Town**

"It's official- we are the biggest morons," Sierra flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared at her co-workers. "Kip being the biggest one of all. It's been three days- I can't believe we're still talking about this! Amnesia my butt. We got conned, plain and simple."

"You do _not_ know that," Kip shot back crossly. Kip didn't understand why his friends were tired of talking about Her, even if it had been three days since they had met Amelia. She was all he'd been able to think about and he felt that she should have been all they'd be able to think about as well.

Sierra stared at the crowd milling around the Park. Flags whipped in the air high above them. Birds sang, dogs barked, people laughed- all completely oblivious to her misery. The more time that passed the more she hated little Miss Amelia. For the past seventy-two hours that all she heard about- Amelia this and Amelia that. For over a year Sierra had been waiting for Kip to call her and when he finally did it was to talk about Amelia!

"Kip!" Anthony's voice rang out over the din of chatter. "We got any more water?"

"Yeah, man." Kip's handsome head disappeared briefly as he retrieved a new case from below the service counter. He ripped off the plastic covering and dumped the bottles on a tub of ice before returning to the conversation. "I'm telling you, she was afraid. That was no act and I know acting."

Sierra rolled her eyes in disgust. Kip liked to believe that he was an Academy Award waiting to happen. Usually, she agreed with him, but today she just thought he was an idiot. "If you're so worried about her," she said unpleasantly, "then do something. Track her down."

"Why would he do that?" Anthony wanted to know. Laid-back as always, Anthony was the one person unaffected by the whole Amelia drama.

"Kip here," her tone was derisive and mordant, "doesn't believe she knew the man who claimed her. And he refused to provide proof of his identity. So naturally, he's lying and she was kidnapped."

Kip's cheek stung with embarrassment- that was last time he would ever confide in Sierra.

"Whoa, there's a lot missing from your plot there, Kip," Anthony commented affably. "Why should this guy have to prove anything to you and why would you kidnap someone you don't know?"

"Either," Sierra answered for Kip, "you do know her and she's worth millions in ransom. Or you could care less who she is because you have depraved plans for her regardless."

Anthony was a bit taken aback by Sierra's delight. He didn't think anyone should be happy at the idea of depraved plans for someone regardless. "I think it would be hard to track her down, anyway," he shrugged. "We don't even know if she's from the City- she could be from anywhere."

"Brooklyn," Sierra remarked off-handedly.

The boys stared at her. "How do you know?" Kip snapped, still smarting from her earlier betrayal.

"Her accent," she said defensively. "East Coast for sure and it sounded very Brooklyn-ish." Sierra had always had a knack for languages and accents. That knack had gotten her cast as Eliza Doolittle in her senior year high school production of _My Fair Lady_ as she was the only one who could convincingly pull off a Cockney accent. Plus her job in the tourist industry allowed her to continually hone that skill.

Anthony could practically see the wheels turning in his friend's head fueled by Sierra's observation and it concerned him. Kip was taking this far too seriously. Now Anthony enjoyed drama as much as the next actor but he preferred his drama on the stage. He glanced at Sierra but she wasn't paying attention to him.

"Why you would bother with the Mystery Girl anyway?" He tried to make the situation seem absurd. "I mean aside from her physical perfection and beauty?"

"I'm in love with her," Kip said with so much fervor that Anthony was convinced that Kip believed what he said.

Sierra wanted to scream. And hit something- preferably Kip. _I can't take this! _She fumed inwardly. _He thinks he's in love with a girl he knows nothing about!_

"You can't just pick a girl out of the crowd and make her your one true love just because she's beautiful," Sierra cried. "It doesn't happen, Kip! In case you've failed to notice, life is not a fairy tale!"

"Well, actually it does," Anthony pointed out, for reasons irrelevant to the current situation. "It happened to my parents."

"Shut up!" Sierra shrieked at him, unable to contain her frustration. "No one cares about your parents!" Anthony looked wounded.

"Both of you," Kip hissed suddenly aware that their conversation was drawing the attention of the crowd. "This is serious," he proclaimed. "I'm serious even if you don't think I am. I can't let this go until I'm sure she's safe."

"So go to the police," Anthony, ever practical, suggested.

"And tell them what? What that the purported husband of the girl I'm in love with who has amnesia took her away? Come on- if I can't even get my friends to take me seriously how am I going to get the police to take me seriously?"

"Then what do you propose to do?"

"I'll find her myself," Kip said, convinced of his ability to shoulder the endeavor. "I do have the phone number that she dropped."

"That fell out of her pocket," Anthony corrected him. "She did _not_ drop as an SOS to you, Kip. Don't delude yourself into thinking she did. For all we know, it's the number of a New Jersey Laundromat."

Kip scowled at Anthony, but said nothing.

Still fuming, Sierra jumped back into the conversation with a vengeance. "Go on then, Kip," she fired at him. "If you're so convinced she's your destiny, then call that number and find her. Whatever it takes, right? Anything worth having is worth fighting for, isn't it? Take the risk!"

_Why am I encouraging him? _She wondered despairingly, even though she already knew the answer. _It's because I love the drama and the romance of mystery and adventure! I love it so much I'll give up anything for it. Even Kip!_

"Sierra, you're absolutely right!" Kip's eyes glazed over with excitement for he thought Sierra was in his corner and did not see the devastated expression on her pretty face. "What Amelia needs is a hero- namely me." His shoulders flexed involuntarily at the prospect of adventure that lay before him.

A snicker of mockery escaped Anthony's lip and he quickly clamped a hand over his mouth, but it did little to contain the laughter. Kip glared at him. "She's already got a hero, Kip," Anthony went out, wiping tears from his eyes. "And one who's probably a billionaire. Did you see the suit he wearing? Or the car they got into? Or the size of the rock on her finger? You really think she's gonna leave him, amnesia or not, for some concession-selling, Mel Gibson wannabe?"

Kip ignored Anthony's reality check- he was already devising his play in his mind.

"Even if you did find her," Sierra said, having resigned herself to the fact the she had shot herself in the foot where Kip was concerned, "She did get into the car willingly- there are a ton of people who witnessed that. She doesn't want to be rescued. And I'm sure her _husband_ doesn't want her to be rescued."

Kip didn't like to be reminded of the one major obstacle in his grand plan- the fact that his dream girl was married. "Do we have proof of the marriage?" he wanted to know. "I never saw a ring."

"His left hand was in his pocket," said Anthony, who now growing weary of the conversation and of Kip. "So unless someone in the crowd had x-ray vision I doubt anyone else saw it, either. Doesn't mean it wasn't there."

"But what if the reason his hand was in the pocket was because there was no ring? What if I confronted him and told him someone else was looking for her? Then he'd have to show me proof!"

"No," Anthony retorted. "Whoever he is, he's important. And important people are busy people- they don't have time for nosy college kids who demand proof of their marriages. And I'll remind you again- you don't know who the guy is or where they live."

Kip pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. On the paper was a long phone number. The paper had wormed its way out of his future bride's pocket as she got into the luxury car with her ostensible husband. Kip had retrieved it, clinging to it as a sign that Fate had meant them to be together. He was still working on his script, perfecting it, rehearsing it- otherwise he would have called that number already.

"I can find out soon enough."

"Crazy," Anthony pronounced. He turned away shaking his head to tend to their neglected customers. "Plum daft."

Kip did not hear him as a scene was coming together in his head. _I know what I'll do. I'll call and say that a handsome Hollywood actor is in the City searching for his fiancé who didn't show up for their wedding rehearsal. I'll say he had a picture of her and she looked just like the person who was claimed as his wife. But I need a name. What name I will give to the supposed fiancé of the fictional actor who is looking for her?_

Kip stretched his tall frame as he worked out the details of his script. He took a deep breath and his fitted t-shirt stretched with the inhalation. Sierra, who was watching him, sighed morosely drawing his attention.

_That's it! I'll say her name is Sierra. It's easy to remember._

"Whatever you're thinking," Anthony said as he salted a pretzel for a customer. "Don't do it. There is something very wrong with this picture. You do not want to be in it."

Kip grinned a thoroughly delighted grin. His mind was made up; Anthony could see it in his eyes. "What I want is to be in Amelia's picture," he said resolutely. "As soon as we close up for the day I am calling that number."

Anthony looked to Sierra's emotional eyes with an intense worry in his own.

"What?" she asked, picking up on his apprehension.

"We can't let him do this," he told her softly. "I have a bad feeling about this whole thing."

"A premonition?"

"Maybe..."

* * *

Fletcher Ridge, Illinois

"It's your fault we missed him."

He turned an infuriated glare on her. Her recent vanishing acts had cost them precious time on the Jarod pursuit and ultimately cost them the Pretender himself who was gone before they arrived on the scene of his latest pretend. He was angry, very angry. Angry she wouldn't let him in on what was going on- something he strongly suspected that had to with their father; angry that Sydney and Broots impeded his search for his sister by withholding information from him; and angry that he was the one who was going to be in hot water with their African superiors for the screw up that was, for once, not his fault.

Parker looked away from him. She stared at something in the distance that he could not see. She knew Jarod's escape was her mistake, but there was no way to avoid it. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Parker had chosen her father over Jarod, but now she wasn't sure she had made the right choice.

_Don't tell anyone, understand? Someday when I have more time I'll explain everything to you. The key is still Jarod- bring him back and everything will be just as it was…_

Her father's word still echoed in her mind. The more they tolled, the more she doubted her decision.

…_I'll explain everything to you… Yeah, right, _she thought, _that's just code for I'll never explain…_

"You're going to be held accountable for this, Parker."

Her brother's voice jerked her back to reality. He was infuriated with her and rightly so. She turned a hollow gaze to him and nodded. "I know." Regaining her composure, she turned away from him completely. "Let's go."

Her response was not what he anticipated and wordlessly, Lyle followed her back to the car along with Sydney and Broots. There was an odd silence that encompassed the four as they made the trip back to the airstrip where a Centre plane awaited them. Broots, from his place in the backseat with Sydney, watched the Parker twins nervously. Inwardly, he prayed that the drive would pass uneventfully, but he could tell by the look on Lyle's face that that would not be the case. +

His teeth ground hideously together as Pressure and Worry perched weightily on his shoulders and dug their talons into his back. The pressure on him from the Triumvirate to capture Jarod was nothing compared to the pressure they put on him to find Mr. Parker. It seemed as though his father was more the prize than Jarod these days and he did not know why. The worry was hitting him from every facet of his existence it seemed. And Amelia added a new dimension to his stress; he was required to hand her over to Cox while he joined the excursion to Illinois. His glance slid to his sister then back to the scene on the other side of the window. At times, he wished that he could tell her about Amelia and about his suspicions about Cox and Raines. But pig would sooner fly than that would happen. After all, why should he trust her with something of that magnitude when she wouldn't trust him with the smallest insignificances? No, he would not be the first to weaken. So he said rather coldly and accusatorily to her, "I can't believe you let this happen."

She gave him a sharp side-glance, saying nothing. Her mind went back to filtering frenzied uncertainties and prioritizing the anxieties by order of most critical. Like her brother, her energy was divided and drained from all the worry and stress she was under. Subconsciously, she held her breath waiting for a vicious remark from him and began to prepare a rebuttal, but the barb never came. A second glance at him revealed that he was submerged in his own private trouble, none of which he bothered to share with her. He slouched in his seat and covered his mouth with his good hand. She wondered why he looked so spent, but did not linger long on the thought as her overworked psyche determined that the curiosity was not high priority and dismissed it.

"Parker!" Lyle suddenly sat up.

"What!"

"You missed the turn for the airfield."

Realizing that he was correct, Parker swore, slammed on the brakes, and made a u-turn in the middle of highway garnering several expletives from her brother.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?"

"I'm turning the car around, moron. What does it look like?"

He swore again. "Someone ought to revoke your driver's license."

"Shut up, okay!"

The eerie silence returned to the interior of the vehicle. Broots turned to Sydney with a fearful look. Sydney only sighed. Checking to make sure his seat belt was securely fastened, Broots was no longer worried about having an uneventful ride; he justwanted to reach their destination in one piece.

* * *

Even though he had secured quite a bit of distance between himself and his pursuers, Jarod could not breathe until he had plane ticket in hand. O'Hara International was as crowded and as busy as downtown Chicago or so it seemed to Jarod. He was finding it incredibly difficult to maneuver the throng of people without stepping on someone's toes, both literally and figuratively. He spent a considerable amount of time apologizing to people as he tried to go against the flow of the crowd in order to get to the appropriate gate and soon found it simpler and less offensive to just go with the current. The only problem with that was that it cost him a great deal of time.

At the gate, a distempered line of passengers and an equally unpleasant gate attendant greeted him. Humbly, he handed her ticket and was trying to lighten her day by making small talk when she rudely cut him off.

"This isn't your gate," she snapped, shoving the ticket back at him.

Dumbfounded, Jarod tried to point out to her that he was, indeed, at the right place, but the attendant would hear none of it. She directed him to the next closest gate before turning her attention to the others in line who were none too happy with Jarod for holding up boarding.

With a sigh, Jarod tried to double-check the ticket as the human river pushed him along. He was still trying to verify the gate number when he reached the next attendant.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, holding the ticket out to the even more unpleasant attendant. "I was told by the lady at first gate I went to that-"

"Do you have any carry-on luggage?" Obviously, the man could have cared less what someone else had told him. He took the ticket without looking at it and hurried Jarod on his way. Once on the plane, he took the seat he was directed to and settled in for the long flight to Charlotte, North Carolina.

Taking out the red notebook fromhis most recent pretend, Jarod smiled drowsily, satisfied that all was going to turn out all right for the family. With Fletcher Ridge now a swiftly distant memory, Jarod slipped into a dream-laden slumber. In one particularly peculiar dream, his greatest fear came to fruition as Miss Parker had caught him and was taking him back to the Centre. The peculiar part of the dream that Jarod could make no sense out of was what she said to him:

_"We will be arriving at JFK International in ten minutes. Please fasten your safety belts."_

"I thought you were taking me back to the Centre," he murmured as he entered the edges of consciousness.

"We will be arriving at JFK International in ten minutes. Please fasten your safety belts." It was not Parker's voice that spoke this time.

_Huh?_

Suddenly, Jarod sat bolt upright. The man sitting next to him snickered. "Glad to see you up, sonny," he chuckled. "Thought you were dead there for a while, you been out so long."

"Where are we?" He was disoriented from his abrupt wake up.

"Humph," the man folded his newspaper back. "You are out of it, aren't you? We're getting ready to land at JFK."

Jarod, his head now clear, frowned, seriously confused… and concerned. "In New York City?"

The man shrugged. "Only JFK I know of… though I guess technically it's in Queens."

Jarod squeezed his eyes tightly shut and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Something the matter, son?"

He opened his eyes again and sat back. "I'm suppose to be in North Carolina," he explained with a sheepish smile.

"Whoa, did you make a wrong turn! Better pay more attention to your surroundings, boyo. You get into serious trouble if you don't."

_You don't have to tell me twice._ His thoughts drifted to the Centre and he suppressed the urge to shudder.

"Hope you find where you're going," the man waved to Jarod as they parted ways once inside the terminal.

Jarod waved his goodbye and gratitude before turning to face the sea of people around him looking for some direction.

_Question is- where do I go from here?_

* * *

"You failed the simulation, Melpomene." A very unhappy Cox paced the floor in front of his subject. His intense eyes sparked blue fire. "This is not acceptable. Mistakes are not an option!"

She lifted her chin hesitantly. Strands of hair hung haphazardly in her face. Her whole body was drenched in sweat and her bare arms and face were streaked with dirt. "I can't do it. I cannot do what you want me to do."

Cox pressed his lips into a harsh line. The muscles of his jaw tightened as he tried to quell his anger. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm not a killer. I can't do it! No amount of training will change that!"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Several deep breaths later, Cox opened his eyes. His features and posture were relaxed and calm. He smiled enticingly. The change was terrifying. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest.

With slow deliberation, Cox approached her, still smiling. He placed his hands on the table on either side of her and leaned in until he touching her nose with his. She could smell the leather of his coat mingled with the aroma of his cologne. She held her breath.

"The moment I believe that, Melpomene," his voice was not angry in the slightest; it was smooth and devoid of all emotion. "It's over. _You_ are over. Understand?"

Unable to look away from that hypnotic, evil stare, she nodded timidly. His smile widened and took on a secretive air.

"Good girl," he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Now let's get on with your new assignment."

As she slid off the table to follow him, she lost her balance and landed clumsily on the floor. She recovered before he noticed the slip, but the tumble had shaken something loose. A phrase in a language she didn't know she spoke, but that she must for she knew what it meant: _Trasportili dalla malvagità; Trasportili dal centro._

* * *

He was wandering through Strawberry Fields in Central Park with a Nathan's Famous hotdog in hand. The unexpected detour to the City gave him the opportunity to do a little sight seeing before moving on. While Strawberry Fields was an amazingly beautiful place with a variety of fascinating places to explore, Jarod was puzzled by the name for he had yet to see any strawberry fields. He stopped at a vending cart to buy a bottle of water and was served by a melancholy young man.

"Can I help you?" Sad eyes looked out at him from behind white-blonde hair.

"Water, please," Jarod replied, taking note of the boy's deportment. His server sighed, frowned slightly, but did not move. Not being in any particular hurry at the moment, Jarod tried to engage the young man in conversation. "You know, maybe you can help me," he said, looking around. "I'm a little confused. I know this place is called Strawberry Fields,yet I can't help but notice that there are no strawberry fields."

The boys actually smiled, remembering that he had made the same mistake when he took his first trip to Central Park. "It's named after the John Lennon song _Strawberry Fields Forever_. There aren't actually any strawberry fields."

"Oh." Jarod nodded with a smile that instantly evaporated into another confused look. "John Lennon?"

The server gave him an amused look. "Not from around here are you?"

Jarod shook his head. "No. My name's Jarod, by the way."

"Kip," he answered. "Sorry about the water. I'll get it right away."

"Inoticed," Jarod commented geniallywhen Kip returned with the bottle of water. "That you seemed troubled when I came up. Anything wrong?"

Kip shrugged. "Yeah, I, uh," he paused wondering what he should tell the man. "I lost my girlfriend."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Jarod said, handing Kip a five-dollar bill. "Breakups can be really tough."

"Yeah, but we didn't break up."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"She, um," Kip frowned as he handed Jarod his change. He didn't like lying to anyone, but he didn't know how else to explain a rather bizarre situation. "She was suffering from temporary amnesia. I was trying to figure how it happened when this guy showed up and took her."

"Took her?"

"Yeah, he claimed that he knew her, but I'd never met him before." Kip was beginning to slip into his character now- that of the heartbroken boy searching for his stolen love.

"Where is she now?" This tale had certainly piqued Jarod's interest and his sympathy. Already he was beginning to formulate how to help the young man.

"I don't know," he said with a forlorn shrug, "I've been trying to track her down, but it's been hard to do without help."

Jarod paused thoughtfully. "Well, maybe I can be of some service."

"You a Private Investigator?" A new obstacle had been thrown into his script, but Kip knew how to improvise.

"I have been in the past," Jarod responded with a cryptic smile.

"Well, look," Kip was practically drooling with excitement over this new twist and the prospect of actually finding Amelia. "I don't get off until eight. Can you meet me here so we can discuss this further?"

"I'll be here," Jarod said with a friendly smile.

"Who was that?" Anthony asked as he and Sierra returned from their break.

Heshrugged it off. "Just some guy who's never heard of John Lennon."

Kip was on edge for the rest of their shift, but he wasn't babbling about Amelia so his coworkers left him alone. However, with three hours until his next meeting with Jarod, Kip could bare it no longer and excused himself for a break. He sprinted to the nearest pay phone and with trembling hands took the paper from his pocket and dialed the number on it. His heart pounded so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the clamor of the City around him. Nervous sweat trickled down his face; he was starting to panic. The phone rang several times and Kip started to relax, believing no one would answer. Then he heard a click. His heart almost stopped.

"Mr. Lyle's office, this is Lucy- how may I direct your call?"

He tried to remember the carefully studied script he had concocted, but his mental faculty fled him. He froze.

"Hello?"

Kip slammed the receiver down and darted back to his vending booth, having decided to wait on Jarod before pursuing his dream girl.


	7. Interlude: Conspiracies

_AN: Well, I'm glad that the humor was conveyed in the previous chapter- we need a light moment every once in a while in this rather dark series. And I might add that it was a bone fide coincidence that Jarod wound up back in New York where he is most certainly needed. Of course, this was by no fault of his own; blame it on the gate attendants! This is an interlude piece for my readers while I work out the details of the overall story (gosh, it's more work than I anticipated!) Happy (short) reading!_

_**Phi4858:** Yeah, Parker is something else isn't she? And Mr. Parker isn't through lying to either of his children, as Parker will discover when she confronts him about the Heptagon Project. As for Lyle and Parker ever getting on the same page as far as actually talking to each, they will have their moments. As for Kip, well, he's headed for a whole heap of trouble…:)_

_**Gemini**: I look forward to your reviews so much! ;) Jarod doesn't seem to be able to escape the Centre, even when he is running from them. As for Kip, he's going to learn a hard lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie. _

_**LJP**: Ending up back in NYC is the only coincidence is this story._

* * *

**Interlude: Conspiracies**

"_I am still not satisfied with the situation, Mr. Cox. Not after what happened last time."_

"_I assure you, Madam Director, we have everything under tight control. Operations are running smoothly." The unflappable Mr. Cox actually began to sweat._

"_I find it difficult to believe," the Director's diction was sharp, crisp, and deadly serious. "That with all the problems which arose during the last time those two weretogether that this is wise. I do not see how intentionally placing them together will beresult in anythingdifferent than the previous Project."_

"_I assure you-"_

"_I do not want or need your assurances. What I want is tangible evidence: proof that this Project will be successful."_

"_Of course, Madam, whatever you wish."_

_There was a chilling silence in which Cox stopped breathing. With a mere flick of the Director's wrist it could be off with his head; he had to be excruciatingly carefully not to make even the tiniest of errors either in words or actions._

"_Project status."_

"_Progress is moving slow, but steady. The subject is quick to learn and successfully accomplishes the simulations. However, we have encountered Activation issues."_

"_What issues?"_

"_The subject has difficulty recalling details and facts and recollecting faces and locations. We have thus far been unsuccessful in determining the source of the problem."_

"_Is he somehow responsible for this?"_

"_Mr. Lyle?" Cox, now a bit more relaxed, scoffed at the notion. "Hardly. He doesn't have the intelligence to manipulate such things."_

"_You seem confident of that, Mr. Cox."_

"_Overly, Madam."_

"_I hate over-confidence," The Director snapped brusquely. "It leads to carelessness. And carelessness leads to failure."_

_Cox gulped. His breathing halted again._

"_What is Mr. Parker's status?"_

"_Still missing, Madam. No leads as of yet, though we believe that Miss Parker may know more than she claims."_

"_Intensify the pressure on Mr. Lyle. I want Mr. Parker found. Do what you must."_

"_With pleasure, Madam," Cox turned as he was dismissed, relieved to be able to step out of the fire at last. _

"_Mr. Cox?"_

_He turned back with an apprehensive visage. "Yes, Madam?"_

"_I want the child."_

_Cox frowned, greatly perturbed. "Yes, Madam."_


	8. The Shape of Things

_AN: Thank you all for your patience while I've been working out the kinks in this trip. Happy reading._

_**Wondergirl:** I must admit- I do, do it on purpose! My hope is to keep you off guard so that the story is never predictable. ;) Thank you for your kind words- only the best for my readers._

_**LJP:** I'm sorry you're so lost; I hope I can offer some clarification on certain areas: 1) Most of the questions you have can be answered in Tourniquet. The Director really isn't new. She is actually a character from the series of whom little is known; she is mentioned in the first season. We saw more of her in Tourniquet: In Chapter 9, the Director instructs the Sentients (Black Coats) to find Mia and perform a Selective Recollection Deletion to remove memories of Lyle from her consciousness. In that same chapter Lyle discovers that the Sentients answer only to the Director. In Chapter 10, Mr. Parker and Raines face the Director at her undisclosed headquarters. In Chapter 22, Puccini reveals to Lyle and Mia the nature of Project Heptagon and their subjection to the project and that the Director was the one who commissioned Project Dominatus. 2) As for Lyle and his relationship with Parker, it has been very slowly changing since the events of Tourniquet and it will continue to evolve; just don't expect them to attend any twin conventions together. No trips to the Renewal Wing for Lyle… yet. His problems are a direct result of Project Heptagon as is his connection to Mia. 3) Jarod and the City: his accidental detour to New York was really just a reminder that the great Pretender is also human and no one can be on their guard 24/7. Plus, as we'll see in this chapter, it works out to his advantage. I hope that helps some. If you haven't read Tourniquet yet, it might help alleviate some of your confusion! Thanks for keeping me on my toes- I love it!_

_**Gemini:** As always, you're reviews are so encouraging. Thanks._

_**Phi4858:** Ah, you're thinking in the right direction. Brigitte hasn't had the baby yet so… Baby Parker could very well be the intended victim. We'll have to see. But you are definitely on the right track! Oh, and thank you for making me your first signed (with working email addy) review. I feel special.  _

_**Imag1ne: **You haven't missed anything! I just threw in that little teaser to keep you guessing. You know how I love my cliffhangers! ;)_

_This chapter occurs prior to the episode "Til Death Do Us Part."_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 5: The Shape of Things**

"_Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces." – Sigmund Freud_

_

* * *

Kip twisted his napkin in his hand until it shredded in corkscrew ribbons. Jarod's piercing gaze unnerved him inestimably. They were seated at a table in the Lemon Grass Grill amidst jungle-themed décor. After a light a meal, which Kip couldn't force himself to eat, they got down to the business at hand._

"Let me go over this once more," Jarod said, furrowed his brow. "I want to make sure I have the details right. You say that your girlfriend was supposed to meet you for lunch, but didn't show until three hours later and couldn't remember anything."

"Right," Kip downed the largest gulp of water he could muster. "I don't know what could have happened to her. She wouldn't, or couldn't, say."

"How long have you been dating?"

"Uh," Kip was momentarily stumped. "About almost three weeks." He reasoned that a shorter period of dating would explain why he knew so very little about her.

"Okay." Jarod drew in a deep breath. So far Kip had provided him with such minimal information about her, aside from a vivid description, that even he wasn't sure he could do anything with it.

"I'm sorry I can't give you much else to go on," Kip lamented. "I guess I shoulda gotten to know her better."

Jarod nodded sympathetically. He could understand that a young man smitten by a beautiful girl might tend to be occupied with other things than her last name, still… Something was amiss but the Pretender could quite put his finger on what it was. He sighed.

"How do you spell her name?" he asked, tapping a pen against the description he written down on a napkin.

"S-I-E-R-R-A." Kip's heart skipped a beat as the fib slipped out. He wasn't quite sure why he was withholding Amelia's real name from Jarod; even in his infatuation-clouded mind it made no logical sense.

"Do you know where she's from?"

"Brooklyn."

Jarod looked up with a bit of a smirk. "You sure about that?"

Kip shrugged sheepishly. "Pretty sure." In truth, he had no idea.

"Can you tell me what the man who took her looked like?"

As Kip depicted the man with his imaginative and dramatic description, Jarod's smirk dissolved into a frown. Yet if he had any inkling as to who the man might be, he did not share it with the boy.

After a long pause of silence, Jarod leaned forward, intently looking at Kip. "Honestly, Kip," he said, sounding apologetic, "It's going to be tough- I really don't have anything to follow here. I'll pull some strings to see if I can find anything out, but…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kip stood with Jarod, picking up the check as he did so, but the Pretender took it from him. "I mean, it may be nothing anyway, but I have to be sure."

"Absolutely," Jarod agreed. "Better safe than sorry."

"Thanks, you know, for helping a nobody like me." Kip felt immensely guilty about lying- Jarod seemed like a decent guy. However, it was too late to change what had already been done- if he confessed then his new friend would most certainly abandon him.

"Everybody is somebody," he replied with a slight smile. "I'll be in touch."

He started to walk away but stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a serious expression. "Are you sure you've told me everything?"

"Everything," Kip confirmed trying to sound fervent. He worried that Jarod's penetrating gaze might somehow detected his lying. As soon as the Pretender was gone, Kip sunk back into his chair. A cold sweat broke out over his face.

He had told him everything, that is, except the number that she dropped and the office it was for.

* * *

The Centre halls were quiet as Broots made his way down them at a quick pace. Abruptly, he stopped dead, turned on his heel, and made his back in the direction he had come from. With his nose buried in the document he held in his hands, he rounded a corner and slammed into a wall that had not previously been there. Papers flew everywhere.

Reeling slightly from the impact, Broots attempted to collect himself and his papers before investigating the new wall. Upon study, the new wall, it turned out, wore shoes and dressed like a sweeper.

"Oh," Broots uttered weakly, his face flushing in embarrassment. "Oh, sorry, Willie, I didn't see you there."

Willie, Raines' right hand man, folded his arms over his chest and frowned. Behind him the door to the computer lab opened. All color fled the technician's features.

"Hello, Mr. Broots," Cox flashed a toothy smile at the man. "Looking for something… again?"

"N-no," Broots tried not to swallow his tongue as he replied. "I just came to check s-something."

"Well, you'll just have to do it elsewhere, Mr. Broots. This lab is off-limits indefinitely."

"O-okay," Broots sighed and withdrew from the hallway. "In that case."

Feeling queasy as he always did after a run-in with the ultra creepy Cox, Broots headed off to find Sydney when another sweeper swept passed him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Once more, Broots found himself collecting his papers. As he reached around the corner for the last page, he glimpsed the new sweeper talking to Willie.

"… Cox is searching for… the files regarding MELPOMENE and ARES…"

Broots froze. _ARES? Melpomene?_ "Oh, I've gotta find Miss Parker!" he exclaimed to himself. Shoving the last of the papers under his arms, Broots took off at full speed.

* * *

"Think. Just think about it." Lyle paced the floor at a furious rate. His uncharacteristically disheveled appearance underscored his high level of anxiety. "You got back forty-five minutes ago after being gone for three hours. Forty-five minutes ago, Amelia! You have to known where you've been!"

"Don't you think I know that?" The redhead stood with her back against the living room wall. She pulled her long front locks down in front of her face as though to shield herself from the verbal onslaught- one he had been hurling at her for the past fifteen minutes.

He turned on her suddenly, livid as he advanced. "What happened in those three hours!"

"Stop yelling at me!" she hollered back at him. "It's not helping me remember anything!"

"Then tell me where you've been!" He made no effort to tone down his demands, despite his voice going hoarse due to the constant screaming.

She opened her mouth to retort, but no sound came out. Instead, she pursed her mouth together in a tight line, glaring at him from beneath furrowed brows. He instantly realized his poor choice in tactics when she stormed out of the room. A moment later he heard a door slam.

"Amelia!" He rolled his eyes skyward and followed the path his wife had taken. The path ended behind a closed bedroom door. "_Amelia…"_ there was a plaintive note to his tone as he jiggling the doorknob. It was locked.

"Mia, come on." He placed his left hand against the door and rubbed his smarting eyes with his right.

The door stared back at him mutely.

"Look," he tried a different tactic, "Mia, unlock the door. I won't yell at you anymore."

There was only silence in response to his request. He stood there for a long while feeling utterly foolish for being locked out of his own bedroom before finally turning away.

"Promise?" Her soft voice drifted faintly from the other side of the door.

He walked back to the door. "Promise what?"

He heard her exasperated sigh and a noise near the door. "That you won't yell at me anymore."

"Oh, that," he muttered. Louder he said, "Yeah, okay, I promise. Open the door."

"Open the door what?"

He gritted his teeth. "Open the door _now_." He found it difficult to refrain from just breaking down the door and pulling her out.

"Open the door _what_?"

"Open the door," He was about to yell at her again for testing his patience when it dawned on him what the 'what' was. And it forced him to swallow his pride temporarily. "Open the door, _please."_

The lock clicked, allowing him entrance to the room. She was standing in at the foot of the bed, looking ridiculous in a plaid button-down shirt of his. He swept a critical gaze over her, noting with annoyance how wrinkled his shirt was and how cock-eyed the collar was lying. Even more annoying was the doe-eyed expression she regarded him with.

"I really don't remember what happened, Bobby," she said sinking down onto the bed. "If I did I'd tell you."

"Okay, fine." Lyle settled next to her with a deflated sigh. "Tell me what you do remember."

Folding her hands in her lap, she frowned slightly. "I remember large gray doors and opened into a huge room. The man named Cox and two other men were there. Mr. Cox had me sit in a chair in the center of the room." She paused as her frown grew. "I remember hearing a squeaking noise behind me… then nothing." She shrugged. "I'm sorry. But that's all I know."

Lyle nodded morosely and lightly touched her hand. They sat in silence for a time before Amelia spoke again.

"Have you taken an injection lately?"

He stared hard at her. "What?"

She looked startled, upset even. "I don't know."

"What about the injection?" Anxiousness mixed with hope came escaped in the words as he thought they might have reached a breakthrough. "Why do you want to know if I've taken an injection lately?"

"I don't know," she said, at a loss for words. There was nothing solid behind the query; no images to support a reason for asking such a thing- she just instinctively _knew_. "I don't know… It just came to me. Am I wrong?"

His face fell. "No, no, you're not wrong."

"I'm…" A ringing phone cut her off.

Lyle swore as he went to answer it. "What?" he snapped irritably into the receiver.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Lyle, but…"

_Lucy? What the- _

Lyle glanced over his shoulder at Amelia who was now lying on the bed with her eyes closed. "I thought I told you never to call me hear," he hissed in a hushed tone.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lyle," she sounded truly sorry, "But this is very important."

"What is it!"

"There has been a very persistent young man calling all morning for you."

Lyle frowned. "So?"

"So, he's been calling about an Amelia. He says another man been asking for a woman that looks just like her."

His blood ran cold at this news. A thousand thoughts flooded his mind. "What man?"

"He says the man is her fiancée."

Anger flooded his system, taking over his mental processes. "Did he leave a number?"

"Yes, sir."

He leaned over the side of the bed, taking a possessive hold on a handful of her amber locks.

"Give me the number, Lucy."

Lucy gave him the digits, inadvertently helping to put into a motion a dark plan to eliminate the competition for Amelia.

* * *

Jarod was not happy. In fact, he was angry and getting angrier with each passing moment.

Sitting in a park bench beside him was Sierra- the _real_ Sierra. After making no progress in the search for Kip's missing girlfriend and finding a myriad of details that didn't make sense, Jarod had gone back to the scène of the alleged crime. His intent was to question Kip further about the inaccuracies of his tale and, since he was not answering his phone, went to the vending cart to speak to him. However, only Anthony and Sierra were working- neither had seen Kip all day. An aggravated Sierra was all too eager to tell him about Kip's obsession with Amelia and his quest to find her regardless of logic or reality and seemed genuinely shocked to learn that Kip had lied to Jarod; it was very un-Kip like.

"Are you positive that he wasn't dating anyone?"

Sierra nodded assuredly. "Positive," she confirmed, the added regretfully, "Believe me, I'd know."

Jarod asked to replay the scene in detail, including everything she could possibly remember, even facts that seemed inconsequential. He found that the entire scenario had been witnessed by a multitude of people- yet another fact Kip had fudged on; the boy claimed only a few uninterested people saw the exchange. When Sierra described the object of Kip's obsession, a frown came over Jarod's features and Sierra notice a change in his demeanor. The worry on his countenance became stronger when she described Amelia's husband.

"This girl," he said slowly as though taking the utmost care in choosing his words "was her last name Micelli?"

Sierra shrugged and tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. "I don't know. I never heard a last name given. Why? Do you know her?"

Jarod's grimace deepened. "Possibly."

"Small world," she commented lamely, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"The man," Jarod wanted to know. He turned a staid gaze on her. "Was his name Mr. Lyle by any chance?"

"He never gave a name, not even when Kip asked for it."

"Did you happen to see his left hand?"

"N-no." Sierra was upset now, wondering what it was that had Jarod so distressed. "He kept his hand in his pocket."

Jarod withheld a sigh as he tried to figure out how a trio of college kids got caught up in Centre intrigue. As angry as he was with Kip for lying, he knew he had to stop him from foolishly pursuing the matter.

"So," Sierra blurted suddenly, bothered by the silence, "You know these people? Is he really her husband? Kip doesn't believe it, though he has no reason not to."

Jarod gave her a half-shrug. "I don't know about that, Sierra, but I do know that Kip needs to stay away from them."

"Good," she sighed with relief. "Please tell Kip that- I'm sick to death of hearing about Amelia."

"Where's Kip now?"

"Who knows? He's probably on the phone calling that number Amelia dropped."

Jarod looked up sharply. "What number?"

* * *

"And then Mr. Cox came out and-"

"Broots!" Miss Parker whirled on him. "Stop babbling about Cox. I don't want to hear about it."

"Sorry, Miss Parker." Broots gave her a wan smile before submerging himself in sorting the mess of papers piled in front of him.

There was a long bout of silence.

"Are you going to tell me what you found out on Jarod or do I have to wait until you finish your paper sorting?"

Broots gulped and dropped the disheveled documents immediately. "S-sorry, Miss Parker." Pushing his chair away from the table so not to be tempted to cataloging the papers again. "I really haven't found much on Jarod."

"Have you found anything at all?" Parker regarded him through narrowed eyes.

Broots bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Well, I did find that a Jarod Delta purchased a ticket for a flight to Charlotte, North Carolina, but there's no record that he ever got on the flight."

"So he's not on the passenger manifest," she folded her arms across her waist, tapping the heel of her Prada against the tile floor. "That means what exactly?"

"Probably nothing," Broots wheeled his chair over to the computer and logged on. "I mean he could have found a way around that. However, he hasn't surfaced in Charlotte yet, either, and the ticket was purchased two days ago." At the exasperated look on his boss's face, he quickly added, "Of course, he could just be lying low."

"Search," she snapped. "Everywhere. Then search again. I want a flight to North Carolina on alert around the clock so that the second he does come up to breath, we'll be there. And get Sydney."

"Yes, Miss Parker." Broots was about to bury his nose in his work when he spun around suddenly. "Oh! Miss Parker!"

Parker shot him a withering look. "What?"

"What I was going to tell about running into Mr. Cox was that afterwards, I overheard a sweeper tell Willie something about Mr. Cox looking for files on Melpomene and ARES."

"And?"

"And that's all."

"Hmm." Parker seemed to chew on the new information for a moment. "Broots?"

He glanced up at her hopefully. "When you get finished here, I want those files before Cox gets them."

Broots sighed and nodded his acquiesce.

* * *

Kip was pacing the area round the coffee table in living room of campus suite he shared with four other guys. Every few minutes he wiped the sweaty palms of his hands on the thigh of his jeans. Every whisper of a sound in the empty house made him tense. The source of his fear was two-fold: 1) he was anticipating the call from a Mr. Lyle, who's secretary promised he would hear from her boss and 2) he was overwhelmed by the guilt caused by his lying to Jarod. His anxiety had elevated to nausea.

_Ding- dong._

Kip nearly had an accident and a coronary when the doorbell rang. The bell continued to chime as he tried to recover. Finally, with one last deep breath, Kip wobbled weak kneed over to the front door and unlocked.

He was surprised to see Jarod standing on the stoop. His surprised turned to dismay when he saw the look on the man's face.

_He knows! He knows I lied! I'm dead…_

Kip saw his short life flash before his eyes and realized that it may not have been prudent to trust a stranger so extensively.


	9. Remember Me

_**AN for part 1:** This is another two-part chapter; I broke it down so that I could get it out quicker. Enjoy! Again, many thanks to everyone taking time to read this Reviews are appreciated. ;)_

_**Imag1ne**: Keep on mentioning it! I love it that you love Lyle/Mia. It always hard to pair up a cannon character with an original one in such a way that readers will accept them… _

_**LJP**: I'm glad that things are clearer now. Enjoy the new questions that are about to be presented…_

_**Gemini:** You know, I love Broots, too. He's a lot of fun to write. As for Jarod, he won't be locked up any time soon, but later on… Who knows what'll happen…_

_**Phi4858**: Jarod's is as furious with Kip as Lyle is jealous of Kip. This does not bode well for the boy. As for Lyle and Jarod meeting as they deal with Kip- I'm sure they'll cross paths at some point._

_Chapter occurs during "Til Death Do Us Part" in the fourth season. Sections marked + denote a scene from an actual episode._

_Lyrics by Evanescence._

_**AN for Part 2:** Sorry for the delay in posting; I'm trying to wrap up some art projects before classes start again as well as write this story. And then there's that little matter called work… Anyway, on with the tale!_

_**Imag1ne:** Thank you! As for Lyle's call to Kip, details of that call are going to be delayed for the time being. We'll see what Lyle's cooked up for the boy in the next chapter and let's just say, it ain't pretty._

_**NYT:** Glad to have you back! To answer your questions: No, as of yet no one outside of Cox and Raines know of the marriage. Someone close to MP may soon find out about it. And Mr. Parker may or may not know- his involvement is currently unknown. As for the Antidote affecting Amelia's memory that is another mystery waiting to be unraveled, but the source of her amnesia stems from Jarod's Antidote and Cox's tampering._

_**Gemini-M: **Your mention of a taxidermy plant has given me an idea… Thanks ;) _

_**LJP: **As far as Cox is concerned, let's just say what goes around comes around…_

_Lyrics by Evanescence_

_Chapter occurs during "Til Death Do Us Part" in the fourth season. Sections marked + denote a scene from an actual episode._

* * *

**Chapter 6: Remember Me: Pars 1**

_**You don't remember me but I remember you… I lie awake and try so hard not to think of you but who can decide what they dream? And dream I do... **_

Have you forgotten all I know and all we had? You saw me mourning my love for you….

_

* * *

_

Kip sat on the small couch in the small living room with his hands clasped together and hanging between his knees. His chin hung on his chest and his eyes stared at the ever-changing patterns in the solid beige carpet. Before him Jarod paced, his anger having turned into quiet displeasure. Kip was experiencing déjà vu: in his mind's eye he was five-years-old again and his father had just busted him for lying about how the neighbor's dog got covered in honey, flour, and Mrs. Buchanan's expensive perfume. After the scolding, Kip had received a lashing to his back end the likes of which he had yet to forget; he now worried that Jarod might top that whipping until he remembered that he was no longer a child and that Jarod was not his father.Jarod stopped his pacing and fell into a ragged recliner across the coffee table from Kip. He watched with a sad expression. A weary sigh escaped from his lips. Several times he started to say something, yet every time he stopped.

"What were you thinking?" he asked finally, his tone devoid of anger or frustration.

Kip shrugged lamely. "I-I don't know," the boy's lament permeated his very being. "I really don't. I can't explain it to myself, much less you. All I could think about was her- I didn't want to share her with anyone. I guess I thought that you might be as much competition as you would be help. I mean, you'd have to see her to understand…"

A touch of a smile brushed the corners of the Pretender's mouth. "But I have seen her, Kip. Believe me, I can understand that you're smitten with her, but-"

"So you'll help me find her?" Kip's head lifted abruptly, hope shined in his eyes.

Jarod held his hands up. "I'm not saying that." He couldn't help but feel bad for the young man, whose shoulders fell that instant he answered negatively. "I know the man who claimed her, Kip, and he is _not_ someone you want to get involved with."

"Then Amelia might be in trouble. She needs-!"

"Kip," Jarod shot him a warning look. "She needs for you to stay out of this. She's capable of taking care of herself."

"Fine." Kip flopped against the back of the sofa and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table.

"I have an appointment that will take me out of state for a couple of days," Jarod told him as he stood. He watched Kip rise with him, not caring for the look in the boy's eyes. "I want your word that you won't pursue this Amelia thing."

"Okay, you have it," he replied morosely as he shook Jarod's extended hand.

Still grasping Kip's hand, Jarod caught the other man's gaze and held out his free hand. "I also want the phone number."

Kip's mouth opened and then snapped shut with nary a word coming out. A cloud of hopelessness descended over his features. "I won't call it again. I swear."

Jarod shook his head. "It's for your own good."

"Let me get it."

Kip disappeared into his room momentarily. He returned with a small piece of folded paper and reluctantly gave it to Jarod.

A quick glance at the paper confirmed to Jarod that it was Lyle's number Kip had happened upon. He tucked away in the inside pocket of his jacket. "If you've written this number down elsewhere, be wise and burn it, Kip."

The boy nodded and dejectedly shoved his hands in his pants pockets. After Jarod left with the promise to return to check up on him in a few days, Kip bumped his head on the closed front door several times, and when that failed to make him feel any better, he headed for his bedroom. At some point while wallowing in his melancholy, he must have fallen asleep for the next thing he knew he was being startled awakeby the insistent ringing of his cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Kip?"

"Speaking."

"This is Mr. Lyle."

* * *

He was always on the phone, it seemed. And always behind closed doors; he didn't like for her to overhear his business calls. 

Amelia studied her features in the bedroom mirror while she waited for him as though it might somehow help her remember what business he was in. She was getting used to seeing the face that stared back at her; her physical image was no longer foreign to her nor did she feel as though she was in someone else's body. Few memories had surfaced. She knew she liked painting and Celtic music and was a finicky eater, but none of the important details were there. She sighed and blew a section of bangs of her eyes.

The bedroom door opened.

Amelia turned away from her reflection and looked at her husband. He stared at her peculiarly for a moment before crossing the room to closet. He said nothing as he passed and she wondered why he always looked so immensely uncomfortable around her. She drummed her nails against the wood of the chest of drawers, staring at the detail of the sculpted handles. She stopped drumming, and after a beat, pulled herself up on the chest, tucking her feet beneath her and leaning her head against the mirror.

A moment later, he exited with closet with blue silk tie in hand. He baulked momentarily when he saw her sitting on the dresser. He tried to position himself in such away that he could see himself in the mirror and maintain a safe distance from her, but she saw what he was trying to do and moved so that she blocked the mirror further.

"Are you ready to go?" he snapped as he struggled with the knot of the tie.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't feel like it."

"You sick?"

"If I say yes, do I have to go?" Gently she slapped his hands away from the tie and took over.

He scowled childishly at her before allowing her to finish tying the knot, which she did so swiftly and neatly. He features softened. "It doesn't matter what you say, you still have to go."

Her hands fell away from his collar. "Why do I have to go?"

Her face was in profile now and it seemed to illuminate the sadness in her features. He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know."

"Can't you do something?" she looked back him with a serious frown. "Can't you help me?"

He cringed. To him it sounded as though she thought he had the power to stop the visits to Cox and did not. He didn't know how to make her understand that his hands were tied in the situation, at least for the time being. He looked away from her and merely shook his head.

"Does this have anything to do with the things I don't remember?"

"Yes."

Tilting her head to the side, she seemed to chew on the notion. Without a word, she slid off of the chest of drawers. She stopped on her way out of the room to smooth a corner of the bedspread. Her fingers longer on the material and a frown crossed her features.

"Why don't you ever sleep in here?" she turned to him, looking extremely perturbed. "Is it me?"

Her distress was mirrored in his own features. It upset him more than he would ever admit, even to himself, that she had no memories of him… of them. Mentally, he swore, _Jarod and his stupid antidote. I knew there was a catch to it!_

"No," he said quietly, lifting her hand from the bed and guiding her out of the room. He glanced back over his shoulder.

"I've never slept in there."

* * *

Sunbeams danced along the sill, looking for a way into the room, but the bars of dark Venetian blinds blocked their entrance. Disheveled mounds of papers and books were scattered across the lonely desk. In the midst of the disarray, lay a shot glass and a discarded bourbon bottle. A singular shaft of quickly fading lightdarted in from the closing door. 

She stepped out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her. He was headed in her direction, oblivious to everything around him. Within five steps, they collided with each other. The instant they touched both jumped back as though jolted by an enormous shock.

There were no angry barbs; no sarcastic accusations. She simply stared at him, then dropped her eyes and started to move again. Lyle almost stepped aside to let her pass when he caught a whiff of the alcohol that lingered on her breath.

"Parker?"

She didn't whirl around on him as anticipated; no chilling glare froze him as expected.

"What?" The response was half-hearted and weak. She looked as though she had been crying.

"Someone die?" The smirk died on his face before it began when his sister's head suddenly jerked up.

The look in her eyes was not one of anger, but one of intense hurt veiled with shock at the cruelty of his remark.

For once in his life, Lyle had not intended to be cruel.

Her eyes closed briefly and her expression froze. When her eyes reopened she gave him a pained glance then turned and walked away, leaving Lyle incredibly puzzled.

_What did I say?_

Then it dawned on him.

_Thomas…_

It was almost a year to the day that his sister's boyfriend had been murdered.

He watched as she disappeared around a corner. He almost called her back.

* * *

In the shadows and out of earshot, a pair of electric blue eyes watched the brief encounter between the Parker siblings. The meeting lasted long enough for the man in shadows to see that the conversation lacked the typical bitterness and competition that accompanied every other exchange between the two. This led the Centre's resident Undertaker to conclude one thing: the Parker twins were conspiring together.

* * *

"Have you found anything yet?" 

Broots heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. "No, nothing. On anything."

Sydney nodded and gave the younger man a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Something is bound to turn up sooner or later."

"I guess. It just seems odd not to hear anything at all from Jarod."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Broots. I'm confident that he's fine."

"Yeah, well, I doubt that'll make Miss Parker happy." Broots paused a beat, then looked up at the doctor with a frown. "Where is Miss Parker anyway?"

Sydney shrugged and returned to his seat. "She had some personal business to attend."

"She's had an awful lot of that lately," Broots muttered, returning to his computer search.

"Missing Miss Parker, are we?" the doctor couldn't suppress a smile.

Broots blushed profusely. "W-well, yeah- I mean no! No. It's just that… Hey, you know, I haven't been able to find anything at all regarding with Project ARES thing either."

Still smiling, Sydney let the subject of Miss Parker go. He turned to Broots. "Nothing at all. Now that is surprising."

"I know." Broots pushed his chair away from the monitor. "The only information I've found is regarding the names and I'm not even sure that it has anything to do with the Project."

"What did you find?"

"Only that Melpomene is one of the Muses in Greek mythology. She's the muse of tragedy who was known for her singing. She carries a knife or club in one hand and tragic mask in the other and wears cothurnus. And then, of course, Ares is-"

"The god of war," Sydney finished uneasily.

"You think this means anything?"

"It could very well mean a lot."

* * *

Winds of change were blowing through the Centre; Lyle could feel them. He had the unshakable feeling that something very big had recently occurred as the Triumvirate was being very still. Lyle hurried down the hall to his office at rapid pace dragging along with him something covered with his suit jacket. 

After practically throwing his coat into the office, Lyle made sure to lock the door behind him.

"Was that really necessary?" Amelia pulled his coat off of her head andbrushedout her rumpled hair with her fingers.

As usual, he didn't answer her. He went to his desk and pulled out his chair. "I have work to do so sit down and stay quiet."

As he reached for the phone, she wriggled her way onto his lap. He growled.

"That's not what I meant."

She responded by leaning back against him.

"_Amelia_…"

She twisted the rings on her finger.

"I have work to do-"

"You _always_ have work to do," she blurted out suddenly. It was evident she had been dwelling on the topic for some time. "And you're always on the phone!"

"Mia..." He was stunned by the sudden outburst.

"No!" She was determined to be heard. "You don't sleep in our bedroom. You refuse to talk about our wedding. What's going on?" She turned around to face him. "Am I just your trophy wife? Do you have a mistress or harem on the side? Is that why you're never home?"

Lyle looked like he hadbeen shot poin-blankin the stomach.The accusations came out of left field, leaving him speechless.

She glared at him and he stared at her.

"It's not like that, Mia," his voice was so soft that as close as she was she could barely hear him.

Her anger dissipated instantly. Slipping an arm around his shoulders, she leaned her cheek against his. "I'm sorry. I just… I'm so confused and frustrated. I don't know what to think about, about us, about this,"

"I know," he replied, clearing his throat. "Let's just forget about it, okay."

"But, Bobby, I-"

He held up his hand to silence her. He thought he had heard the doorknob turn.

_Impossible. I locked the door._

The knob turned fully and the door creaked open.

_Didn't I?_

Lyle stood abruptly, dumping Amelia on the floor as he did so. He motioned for her to stay put. Without further direction, she tucked herself away under the desk.

Mr. Cox entered the room with a grim visage. He tauntingly dangled a silver keyin full view of Lyleas he pocketed it in his jacket.

Lyle glared coldly at the man he was seeing far too frequently. "What. Do. You. Want."

Cox slid a murderous gaze over to the Under-Director. "What were you discussing with Miss Parker earlier today?"

Lyle blinked. "I haven't discussed anything with her lately."

"I saw you speaking with her earlier, Mr. Lyle. Do _not_ lie to me."

He lifted his chin slightly and studied Cox through narrowed lids.

"What was said, Mr. Lyle?" All of Cox's attention was centered on Lyle and he did not see the mist-gray eyes peering out at him from under the desk.

Arrogance had always been his weak point. He smirked at the other man contemptuously. "What are you going to if I don't tell you?"

Cox with returned the sneered with a chilling flash of teeth.

"We'll find out, now won't we."

_

* * *

__**Have you forgotten all I know and all we had? You saw me mourning my love for you and touched my hand… I knew you loved me then…**_

_**I believe in you- I'll give up everything just to find you… I have to be with you to live to breathe; you're taking over me…**_

_**I look in the mirror and see your face… If I look deep enough so many things inside that are just like you are taking over…**_

* * *

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Lyle's dismissive attitude evaporated at the ominous edge in Cox's threat.

Cox's eyes gleamed eerily in the artificial lighting. "We've been watching you, Mr. Lyle," he said, intentionally ignoring the other man's query. "And there are things that are not adding up."

A hiss escaped through clenched teeth. "Like what?"

Casually, Cox seated himself in the chair across the desk from Lyle, lounging in the seat with dark elegance. "Like where your father is. With all the strings he had to pull to bring you back within the Triumvirate's good graces,one would think that you be in steady contact with him. We find it difficult to believe that you have no idea where he is."

"I haven't spoken to him since he disappeared," Lyle collapsed heavily in his own chair. He hated to be reminded that it was Mr. Parker who brought him back to the Centre. He would have made it back on his own… eventually…

Cox seemed to mull the possibility over momentarily. "Perhaps," he drawled while inspecting his impeccably manicured nails. "Yes, perhaps, Mr. Parker really hasn't contacted you. But you still know where he is."

"If he hasn't contacted me then how would I know that?"

Cox leaned forward suddenly. "Because he has been keeping in touch with Miss Parker who in turn has been keeping you informed on Daddy's whereabouts."

It was all Lyle could do not to laugh out loud at the notion that Parker might actually share such information with him if she had it. Instead he controlled it and merely rolled his eyes skyward.

"This is serious!" Cox snapped impatiently. "Mr. Parker is to be found one way or another. And if you wish to preserve you position in the Centre, I suggest that you not withhold information. If you do, then you'll be submitted to the Triumvirate for investigation."

Color ebbed from Lyle's features at the implication of Cox's statement. "On what grounds?"

"Accessory to murder."

Lyle stared at the other man dumfounded. "Whose murder?" he managed finally. He couldn't think of any recent deaths he'd been involved with that would warrant a Triumvirate investigation.

Cox's eyes narrowed to sapphire slits. "Mutumbo."

The winds of change had a tendency to blow with tornado force. Though he wasn't the triggerman nor involved at all, still his mind raced to formulate a plan to cover his hide. His frantic thoughts were momentarily diverted when he felt a light pressure against his leg. He had forgotten that Amelia was under the desk. He inhaled deeply.

"What are you implying?"

Cox rose with a triumphant smirk when he heard the resignation in Lyle's voice.

"The evidence we havesuggests that the assassin comes from the highest levels of Centre hierarchy and that includes you, Miss Parker, and Mr. Parker," Cox folded his arms across his chest. "Your father has an awful lot to gain by Mutumbo's death which means that you and Miss Parker also have a lot to gain."

"All right," Lyle conceded reluctantly to parlay Cox's suspisions. "You have my full cooperation."

Cox smirked. "Wise choice, Mr. Lyle. Now then, I have a few instructions for you."

Lyle stood to face him. "I'm listening."

"Amelia's scheduled visits to SL-24 are temporarily suspended until the investigation into Mutumbo's murder is complete. She will remain in your custody so long as you behave responsibly. Step out of line just once…" Cox let the threat go unfinished. "The search for our wayward Pretender is to continue, however, if we find even the slightest hint of misconduct in the search, both you and Miss Parker will be removed from Project Retrieval regardless of whose fault it is."

The more Cox spoke the more indignant Lyle became. _Who is he to come in here and take over like this? I was the one who brought him into the Centre. He should…_. A thought suddenly struck him. Was he really the one who brought Cox to Centre? Now that he thought about it, he had never heard of Cox until the Triumvirate brought the man to his attention!

"Mr. Lyle!"

Lyle was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of the other man's voice. "Yes, yes," he said irritably. "I understand."

"Good." Cox cast a suspicious gaze over Lyle. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to attend."

He was nearly to the door and Lyle nearly let out the breath he had been holding, when Cox turned back to his associate with a secretive smile. "I just want to make sure that I've been perfectly clear: tow the line, Mr. Lyle. We wouldn't want anything to happen to your pretty little wife."

With one last flash of a snake's smile, Cox disappeared.

* * *

"All right, out." Lyle pulledher out from under the desk quicker than she was prepared for.She stumbled against him as she stood.

Distraught with worry and a bit of panic, it took several long moments before Lyle notice his wife's blank expression.

"What is it?" he sighed, sounding put out that he had to divert attention away from his thoughts to tend to her.

Her features were frozen in a wide-eyed vacant stare. Her fingers idly played with a lock of hair, twisting and twining it into knots. He reached over shook her slightly, but it did nothing to jar her out of the trance.

He gave up and turned his back on her.

"Jarod," she whispered.

"What?" He turned back to her with a quizzical look.

She looked up at him with stormy eyes, remaining silent. She seemed to be grappling with something- a word, a thought, an idea- something that was eluding her.

"Jarod," she said again.

There was a moment of silence before Lyle spoke. "You remember him?" There was bitter accusation in his words.

"I-" she turned her head away and grasped the edge of the desk. "He's… a… Pretender?"

Violently, he slammed his chair under the desk, livid that of all people she should remember it had to be him… Jarod!

"Who is he?"

Lyle shot her a cynical look. Straightening his tie, he erased the emotion from his visage. Then taking her by the arm, he led her from the room.

"Bobby, who is he?"

"No one important."

"But," she stopped moving with him forcing him to halt as well. "Why would Cox want you searching for him if he isn't important?"

"Drop it," he growled. "He's of no importance to _you_."

Amelia followed him quietly. Clearly, the subject of Jarod was a touchy one with him.

The hallway was empty when Lyle peeked out of his office door. Half-pulling, half-dragging Amelia behind, he attempted to cross the corridor before anyone saw them. They almost made it to the elevator when a familiar click of high heels against the tile caught Lyle's attention. Amelia found herself hiding once again, this time behind a massive marble column. Passing by them, oblivious to the environment around her, was a beautiful yet dangerous looking brunette. Despite the air of intimidation, there was a distinct melancholy in her features. Amelia wondered what or who made her so sad.

_Parker…_ Another name drifted through her consciousness. She recognized that her husband's surname was somehow connected to this woman and that it was more than just a surname, but as always, details were indistinct.

She was pulled along again into the closest elevator. Once the doors were closed, she heard Lyle inhale deeply.

"Who was she?"

He looked at her blankly. "Who was who?"

"The woman you made me hide from."

"Oh." He shrugged off-handedly. "She's just my sister."

Amelia frowned. "So that'd make her my sister-in-law…" She shot him a reprimanding look. "Then why did I have to hide from her?"

"Have ever I mentioned that you ask too many questions?" He gave her sidelong glance, clearly not in a talkative mood. "Anyway, she doesn't exactly know that I'm married."

"Oh." Amelia's arms crossed over her waist and she stared at the elevator doors looking bothered. "Why do I have the feeling that even when I get my memory back, I'm still going to have a lot of questions?"

He just glared at her.

* * *

+_Big J's Carnival Supplies_

_Towson, Maryland_

Still on the East Coast, but still a good distance from the bustle of the City, he watched as a man in an orange jacket worriedly paced the floor. Broots was upset because his boss had yet to answer any of his numerous calls.

"Maybe Miss Parker will meet us here," Sydney replied, tinkering with a toy car that sat on a crate.

Broots wasn't reassured. "Syd, she hates for anyone to enter one of Jarod's lairs before she does. This just doesn't make sense- something's up."

Still fiddling with the car, the doctor was a bit more perceptive to the significance of the day. "Think back," he told him, "one year, Broots." He paused and looked at the younger man, who looked at him curiously. "Thomas."

"Thomas? Today?" His jaw dropped slightly in disbelief. "Today is one year to the day she found Thomas murdered at her house?"

He watched as Broots berated himself for leaving the messages he did as though it was an ordinary day.

"It is just any other day," Parker said, announcing her presence.

Three pairs of eyes followed the direction of her voice. It wasn't the same Miss Parker he knew so wellthat walked down the steps and onto a balloon-infested floor. He watched her quietly from his corner. Enormous empathy washed over him. The crispness was gone from her voice; the sharpness had faded from her eyes. Her attempts at sarcasm were half-hearted.

Parker did not see the humor in the justice Jarod served the target of his latest pretend. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said as she surveyed the scene around her, "I give you Ringmaster Jarod!"

And she froze when she saw the memento Jarod left her to commemorate the importance of day. He ached to move so he could better read the reaction on her face. He restrained himself as not to blow his cover. Before long she was fully in his view.

"It's Jarod's twisted little model of my first meeting with Thomas," Parker finally managed as she crouched in front of the model of a woman in a flashy car at a gas station. The gas station attendant stood in between the car and pumps. She swore at Jarod as tear stung her eyes.

"I'm sure there's an innocent reason why Jarod left it," Sydney reasoned in the Pretender's defense.

"Right," she said as she stood and faced the doctor. "And OJ was just chipping golf balls."

"All I'm saying is-"

"It's bad enough he knows how Thomas and I met, but the fact he left it for me on this day is _no_ mistake." Quiet anger boiled beneath her words. "For once, admit he is tormenting me just to torment me. And wherever he is, I just know he's laughing."

Her words were painful and cutting. They struck hard, adding to his sorrow. Seconds passed by. They were gone and he was alone again.

_How could she think that I would ever be so cruel?_ He wondered as he pulled the clown wig off his head. He slipped a white-gloved hand into the over-sized pocket of his coat and pulled out a photograph.

"Hardly laughing." he said with a heavy sigh as he studied the picture. His thoughts drifted to Parker's sorrow-laden eyes. A weighty sensation settled deep within his chest. As he walked past the model of Thomas and Miss Parker, he flicked the photo over it. It landed neatly on the car. The bright smiles of Parker and Thomas only made him sadder.

With a final look at the picture, Jarod turned and walked out of the building, a sad frown hidden beneath the one painted on his face. +

* * *

+_The Centre_

_Mr. Parker's office_

Parker arrived late to the meeting Cox had called, which did not sit well with the man. He was in a less than sociable mood by the time Parker arrived and it set the tone for the rest of the meeting.

His sister was not overly moved by the news of Mutumbo's death and her cavalier attitude towards Cox only tightened the noose around Lyle's neck. He could tell by thedaggers Cox continuallythrew at him that the man blamed him for his sister's indifference.

The meeting ended as poorly as it began, with Cox storming from the room. As soon as he was gone, Lyle turned on his sister.

"He was as much as accusing you… accusing me of participating in a coup!" he said forcefully, attempting to stress the direness of the situation.

Clearly, Parker didn't hear anything he said; she walked passed him as though he wasn't there.

"The least you could do is pretend to listen. Parker!" he called after her. "Call me…when you're back with the living."

The door to their father's office shut as his words fell on deaf ears. With Cox's earlier threats ringing in his own ears, Lyle paced the room trying to figure out a solution to at least one of his problems. He needed help, as much as he hated to admit it, and he needed it badly. Which was another problem in itself- he couldn't think of a single person who would voluntarily offer him their services and this was hardly the time to go around threatening people for it.

He knew Amelia would back him if she could retain the important part of her memory- the part that pertained to him. A thought crossed the forefront of his consciousness, one that he nearly dismissed due to the improbability that it would work. Yet he couldn't ignore it.

There was one person who wouldn't help him, but might assist Amelia. It was a long shot, but at the moment it was the only one he had.

* * *

Lyle made his way along the dark corridors in the lower levels of the Centre looking for Sydney. His neck ached slightly with nervous tension. He was not used to making polite requests, particularly of those beneath him. However, he had exhausted the last of his resources andsaw no other recourse. When survival was at stake, he would do anything to preserve his own- even if it meant humbling himself to the likes of Sydney.

He was nearly upon the place where Broots said the doctor would be when he heard voices below him.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Syd?" Parker voice drifted up through the grated flooring.

Lyle stood still, hidden in the shadows, listening.

"I believe in an afterlife, second chances." Sydney responded. There was no trace of the doctor left in his voice; only a friend consoling another friend. Such consolation wasan alien concept to Lyle.

"I'm talking about Thomas' presence is all around me," Parker said, trying to further explain her unsettling feelings.

He was beginning to lose confidence in his decision to talk to Sydney; he couldn't fathom speaking with the man about Amelia the way his sister did about Thomas.

"Sometimes I hear my mother's whisper of confirmation; my father's laughter. Those we love are with us always- in life and death."

As he listened to Sydney, he began to wonder about his birth mother, someone he tried never to think of. Lyle didn't think he had ever heard his father laugh- not sincerely anyway.

"It's more than that…."

He didn't hear the rest of what his sister said. He had already turned and walked away.

* * *

Jarod knew Thomas. RUMOR killed Thomas. Jarod knew Thomas. Her father was back at the Centre. Jarod and Thomas were friends. She had a new brother. Jarod knew Thomas before she did. Brigitte was RUMOR. RUMOR was dead and all evidence of her existence was nothing more than ashes.

_Tommy…_

Parker sat at her desk trying absorbed the sudden whirlwind of events that had engulfed her. Despite the shock at the circumstances surrounding the birth of the newest Parker and his mother's death, as well her father cold handling of the situation, the most disturbing revelation was still thefriendship Jarod had with Thomas.

Jarod, as always, had seen her through yet another dark period in her life. Always faithful, always vigilant was Jarod and Parker had a feeling that even if she were to capture the Pretender, she would never be rid of his presence.

She groaned and a knock answered her.

"What?"

Lyle slipped in the barely opened door and shut it firmly behind him. He wasn't exactly the person she was most eager to see. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Lyle cleared his throat.

"I just came to tell you," he said, looking ill at ease, "that Cox has left for Africa to further look into Mutumbo's death."

Parker sat back in her seat. "That's the best news I've heard in a while."

"Yeah, well, I have even better news than that."

"Oh?"

"I've leaving, too."

"Now that_ is_ good news."

Lyle smiled wanly. "Don't get too excited. I'm coming back- it's just a business trip."

"Too bad. Where are you off to?"

He regarded her curiously. She didn't put much effort into the jabs and he wondered why she delayed kicking him out of her office. "New York City. I'll be gone a few days. My office knows how to reach me if you get a lead on Jarod."

She nodded. Lyle shifted nervously as though he had more to say but vacillated on voicing it.

"Anything else?" she asked with a hint of cynicism. She watched his tense movement inquiringly, wondering what he was scheming.

"Uh," He loosened his tie with a gloved finger. "Yeah, look about…" he balked on words, worried that they might make him appear weak. He was about to retract what he had already said when Amelia's words came back to him. Earlier, she had begged him toexplain why Parker looked so upset in the hallway. The she had urged him to acknowledge the anniversary of Thomas' death or toallow her to do so. Under different circumstance he would have gladly lether do the dirty work. However, as things stood, that simply wasn't possible.

Parker looked at him expectantly, an impatient gleam settling in her eyes.

"About Thomas, I'm sorry," he said so quickly it was difficult to distinguish the words.

Parker did hear one thing that stunned her. Lyle took a step back- the look she was giving him made him worry.

"Parker…"

"You've never used his name before," she said quietly.

"Yeah, well, Mi-" he didn't catch his slip soon enough.

"Mia," Parker mouth soundlessly. A phantom of a smile brushed her lips. "Thank you," she said, looking her brother straight in the eye. "And tell her that, too."

He gave her a curt nod and quickly escaped her office lest he say anything more damaging.

* * *


	10. Interlude: Extensive Revisions

_AN: I hope everyone and their families are safe and sound and were not harmed by Hurricane Katrina. My thoughts and prayers are with the victims, rescue workers, and all those touched by this disaster._

_Well, it's that time of year again. Classes started Monday, so updates may be even slower. Sorry! I hate it as much as everyone else! Oh, what I wouldn't give to be paid to sit around writing to my heart's content… lol. I'm done daydreaming- on with the story! Once again, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! This is another interlude piece. Chapter is 8 is coming. I promise._

_**LJP:** There's a whole heap of trouble brewing in the Centre kettle… _

_**Gemini:** Cox will be gone for a time, but he'll return in full force with even more authority than before. It may be enough power to force the Parker twins into an alliance and a partnership with their elusive Pretender. _

_**Imag1ne:** You know that with any meeting between Lyle and Jarod there are going to be fireworks. However, they may not meet when you expect them, too…; D_

_**Angie Capriatti:** Thanks for reviewing; it's always nice to a have new name. ) I would really love to respond to your comments, but if I did it would ruin parts of the story. So keep reading to see where Lyle, Mia, Parker, and Jarod end up- they have a rough road ahead of them. _

_**Rev2004:** To be honest, I'm not crazy about writing in scenes from the show-too much to deal with. But it's a necessary evil at the moment: it was the only way I could think of to get Mr. Parker back into the mix and establish Cox's badness within the context of the fourth season. But don't worry, with a few exceptions, show episodes will only by referenced from here on out. The exceptions would be "The Year of Agent Zero" and "The Inner Sense Part II". _

_**KoolCaz:** Even if Mia does get her memory back, it won't be the end of her problems or Lyle's, especially if Cox finds out about it!_

_

* * *

****__Interlude: Extensive Revisions__Africa - Location Undisclosed_

"_This is simply not acceptable, Mr. Cox."_

"_Yes, Madame, I am well aware of that. But until the Triumvirate loses interest in Mutumbo's death, I feel that it is in our best interest to temporarily halt Projects ARES and MELPOMENE."_

_From the darkness came a bark of contempt. "Halt what exactly, Mr. Cox? We've barely gotten started on the Projects and already they have been delayed several times." The impatient strike of nailsagainst wood followed her words. "I was assured that a simple reactivation of the sub-personality was all that was need to resurrect Dominatus. And yet, you and your baboons cannot even do that!"_

_Cox drew in a sharp breath as he prepared to defend himself, knowing his standing with the Director was in a precarious position. "Madame Director, I assure you that we are doing everything we can. The nature of problems we have been encountering are unlike anything we anticipated or were prepared for. It is though the sub-personality is in hibernation. We have not been able to rouse it yet…"_

"_Excuses!" The head of a cane slamming against the impossibly long table punctuated the accusation, shaking the man's aloof demeanor. "And I've heard enough of them. I want Project ARES to continue as scheduled- no delays."_

"_But, Madame, continuation of the Project could arouse suspicion of the Triumvirate. If they were suspect us in Mutumbo's death…"_

"_The Triumvirate is made up fools. And besides," Cox could almost see the wickedly chilling sneer on the Director's visage. "You are heading the investigation into the murder, are you not? It is your job to deflect suspicion from us and put it on the Parkers."_

"_Of course, Madame. My worry is unfounded."_

"_Now, what's the status on the child?"_

"_Due to recent events we have not been able to get close enough to the parents to gather any information."_

"_Excuses and incompetence," the Director murmured loud enough for Cox to hear. "Continue Projects ARES and MELPOMENE with caution and conclude the murder investigation as quickly and cleanly as possible. In the meantime, keep an eye on Raines. If he should suspect something extraordinary about the child, I don't doubt hewould double-cross us."_

_Cox tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Of course. And Jarod?"_

"_Oh, I want Jarod, as well. That has not changed."_

* * *

_Short, yes, I know. And disappointing, I'm sure. But I want to tease you all a bit more and to let you know that I haven't abandoned the story. Chapter 8 will be nice and long and juicy. Thanks for your patience and support._


	11. Midnight in the Garden of Darkness

_AN: Well, here it is- that nice long chapter I promised. Happy reading. _

_**LJP**: Thank you. It makes me feel better knowing that you're still interested even though I'm slow in updating._

_**NYT**: I'm going to try to make all the chapters from here on out as long and juicy as this one. Especially since I'm making you all wait so long to get the new chapter._

_**Gemini**: Cox in hot water conjured up the image of him being boiled in a cauldron! Hehe… I'm glad you liked the interlude. _

_+ Jarod's new pretend is based on a September 8, 2005 incident in New York City that was reported by Florida's Sun Sentinel. Names, locations, and details have been changed accordingly. Only the basic premise of the original case has been used._

_

* * *

**Chapter 8: Midnight in the Garden of Darkness** _

_"Do you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway?" –Dracula, Bram Stoker_

**

* * *

**

She was teasing him again with her recently remembered Italian.

"Perchè così misero, il mio cuore? La vita non può essere così disperata."

He stopped packing long enough to glare severely at her, before returning to his task with renewed hostility. Unnecessary ritual packing was. On solitary trips, he took nothing with him, opting instead to either buy what he needed once he arrived at his destination or to charm it off of lovesick women with too much money and not enough sense. Mercifully, his position as son of the Centre's Chairman allowed him direct funding, relieving him of having to deal with stupid women and the emotional web they tried to ensnare him in. No, now he just had the one female to deal with and he packed for her so that she continued to believe that their trip to New York was a social one to renew their relationship- a second honeymoon, so to speak. Not that there was ever a first, but she was not aware of that.

Lyle cast a discreet glance at his young wife who was perched atop her already packed suitcases, which lay on the bed. On the subject of the foolish women, the one he was married to was not half as naïve nor as silly as she looked for he knew her to be a little viper at times, even without any Centre programming. Though suffering from acute amnesia, she still knew precisely which buttons to push elicit certain responses in him and he despised it. He abhorred the idea that anyone one could know him so intimately that they could manipulate him in such a manner.

Amelia continued on, gently kidding him with witticisms he did not understand, but he judged from her expression and tone of voice that he would not find them nearly as humorous as she, if he were capable of translating.

"Chi sono noi che visitiamo ancora, innamorato?

"If you want me to answer," he growled through gritted teeth. "Speak English."

She smiled pleasantly, unaffected by his foul mood. "Who are we visiting again, sweetheart?" she said again, unnecessarily enunciating the words. Gently, she prodded him out of the way and took over his packing as he had been folding the same pair of pants over for past few minutes.

"Your brother and grandmother," he replied, watching with fascination as she neatly folded the clothing he had struggled with in a manner of which he actually approved.

"Do they know that I've been having trouble with my memory?" As she reached for another shirt a small frown creased her face.

"Yes," he replied. "And they've been through this before, so it's not exactly a big shock."

If she heard his response, she wasn't listening. Instead she was still staring at his shirt with a curious scowl.

"Why aren't you taking any casual shirts?" she queried after a moment. All that had been packed were precision pressed, button-down shirts in solid hues with the exception of a blue plaid that laid obtrusively in the collection. He was also taking along several ties.

"Those _are_ my casual shirts," he snapped, sounding offended.

"Okay, okay," she laughed, flipping her long locks flirtatiously over her shoulder. "Lighten up, Bobby baby. This trip is supposed to be fun, remember?"

He sighed, knowing he was not doing a good job playing "house". He said nothing and did not offer to help her close the baggage.

"Bobby?" Amelia fidgeted with the handle of the suitcase with a distressed expression.

"What?"

"Will you tell me about our wedding now?"

He coughed slightly and advert his eyes from her intense gaze. "I can't," he muttered, wiping his damp palm on the thigh of his jeans.

"Why not?"

"Because." He continued to shift in discomfort. Finally, he settled for crossing his arms over his stomach. "You remember the doctor I told you about?"

She nodded slowly, her attention riveted to her packing. "The one you made me an appointment with."

"Right," he affirmed. "He advised against telling you anything you don't remember like…" he hesitated as though the subject was an unpleasant one. "The wedding. He wants your memories to be your own and not something I've told you."

"Oh," was all that she said. Shrugging her shoulders, she made her hair fall around her shrouding her face. All the mirth of earlier was gone.

He watched her, disheartened, regretting he hadn't tried to play with along her gleefulness. Now she was so withdrawn and somber that it brought back memories of their first meeting and subsequent series of events, none of which he cared to dwell on.

She brushed by him on her way to replace some hangers in the closet. On her way back, he caught her by the waist good-naturedly, trying to make amends for spoiling her cheerful mood.

"Bob-_bee_," she whined, struggling against him.

"Lighten up, Mia baby," he chided her own words against her. "This is supposed to be a fun trip, remember?"

The playfulness in his voice restored life to her. Giggling, she turned in his arms and buried her face against his chest. Unable to resist the infectious nature of her laughter, he found himself chuckling along with her.

_Well, _he thought as Cox's unfriendly gaze and stern visage came to mind. _The good doctor never said I couldn't have a little fun with this Project._

* * *

The light in his office seemed dull even though all sources of illumination were lit. The atmosphere was weighty as if much tension and negativity had recently been released in the area. He sat, lost in troubled thought, behind the desk upon which documents and files lay in organized disarray. His expression was unreadable as a hand pressed against his temple in a gesture of anxiety obscured his features. He leaned over the desktop in aberrantly poor posture; his shoulders slouched as though unable to straighten. 

It was strange to see him in such a state.

She stepped further into his sanctum; the click of her heels announced her arrival in the noiseless room. She cleared her throat lightly yet he took no notice of her.

"Mourning the anniversary of Freud's death, are we, Syd?" she asked, testing his emotional state.

The sound of her voice jostled him from the mire of his thought with a start. "Miss Parker," he recovered poorly, hastily pushing some of the files into a drawer.

Her eyebrows arched in curiosity at his behavior, but she said nothing.

"Miss Parker," he said again. He seemed to have forgotten that he said her name already. "What I may I help you with?"

Though his doctor's demeanor was in place once more, Parker was not fooled by it; she could see in his disturbed eyes that his thoughts were elsewhere. Surprised that he was asking such a thing, she did not let him in on her astonishment. "An explanation would be appropriate."

He looked at her blankly. "Pardon me?"

"You were supposed to meet Broots and me three hours ago," A frown flickered over her features. "You know, to search for Jarod."

The missed meeting did not seem to register with him. "I apologize, Miss Parker," he said pleasantly. But there was an air of disassociation in his words. He sounded like he was speaking to a patient or a receptionist and not to the woman he had known since she was a child. "But I had some work to do."

"You had work more important than Jarod?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"And?" Parker's suspicion was rising.

"And what, Miss Parker?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Syd," she snapped, leaning on her knuckles over the desk. "What's going on?"

Sydney blinked. "I had a new patient to prepare for," he said after a brief hesitation.

Rather than satisfying her, the answer only wetted her inquisitiveness. "Care to expound on that?"

"It's just a counseling session," he explained, as shades of his old self seemed to reemerge. "Similar to the kind I used to do for your mother." He paused, and then added, "Though not nearly as important. It's nothing really."

"Who's the patient?"

He wasn't prepared to answer that question and it showed. Internally, he was in turmoil over the situation he had been forced into as Lyle's chilling threat came back to him: _"Tell so much as a cockroach about this and you can forget about ever getting to know your son." _The younger man who had so rudely commandeered his time several hours earlier had essentially bullied the doctor into aiding him by threatening his son- a son he was still trying to build a relationship with. Sydney inhaled deeply before answering Parker.

"It's really nothing," he reiterated with a shrug. "It's just a Centre employee under more stress than they can handle. Since they didn't want to develop an ulcer, they came to me."

Parker heard the light jab as he was forever trying to get her into one of those "counseling" session. But she didn't take the bait. She straightened up and crossed her arms over her waist.

"Right," she responded, unconvinced. As she turned to leave, she threw a grim look over her shoulder, "Well, when you can spare the time, Broots and I are still waiting."

The doctor stood, prepared to follow her, but as she left the room, he paused and opened a desk drawer. He stared at the contents of the file he removed from it. Once again, he was submerged in his earlier melancholy.

_Lyle… _Lyle was the one who had put him in this position. Lyle was the one who put a wedge between him and Parker by blackmailing him into secrecy. Lyle was the one who once again put Nicholas at risk.

_Nicholas! _Despair washed over him as he thought of his son. Immediately after the meeting with Lyle, he had called Michelle to check on Nicholas, only to learn that their son was out of state doing volunteer work. For all he knew, Lyle had Nicholas hidden away in some God-forsaken place, torturing him as he had Jarod before.

The doctor cursed the Chairman's son, but above all he cursed the Centre.

* * *

Outside of the doctor's office, Parker was in discussion with Broots about their friend's peculiar behavior. 

"You run with the regular staff, don't you?" She asked the technician.

Broots frowned. "I wouldn't say I 'run' with them," he responded, a bit uncertain about what she meant by "regular" staff. "But I know a lot of them… most of them, I guess."

"Do you know of any who might be under enough stress to need a shrink?"

He mulled it over before answering. "No-o-o," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Outside of myself, the only one I can think of is…"

"Who?"

The corner of Broots' mouth turned up. "You."

Parker shot him an exasperated glare. "Yeah, well I think we can safely cross me off the list."

"Is Sydney coming? I think I might possibly have a lead on Jarod."

Parker shrugged. "Who knows? Apparently the new patient is more important."

"Than Jarod?" he gasped with the same disbelief Parker had felt.

"Mmhmm."

"I wonder," Broots thought aloud. "If it has anything to do with Lyle?"

Parker's turned on him suddenly with a cold glare. "What's Lyle got to do with this?"

"I don't know," he said quickly. "I really don't. It's just that I saw Lyle go into Syd's office a few hours ago. But it could be a coincidence."

"I thought Lyle was out of town."

Broots could tell that her attention had shifted from Jarod as well; she had a new mission for the time being.

"As of," he glanced at his watch, "four hours ago he wasn't."

"Find out for sure," Parker instructed him. "I want to know what my baby brother is up to."

"Sure, Miss Parker. You really think he's somehow responsible for Sydney's new patient?"

"I'd bet the farm on it."

* * *

He shifted uncomfortably as they waited for the chime of the doorbell to be answered. Giddily, she clung to his disfigured hand, interlocking her fingers with his, unperturbed by his missing appendage. 

The door was suddenly flung open and an elderly woman with silver hair tied in bun greeted them with outstretched arms. She clutched Amelia tightly, crying loudly in her native tongue as tears sparkled in her dark eyes. The woman turned to him next and he braced himself for the less than enthusiastic reception he was sure his presence would cause. Gianina caught her grandson-in-law by complete surprise by embracing him with as much fervor and happiness as she had her granddaughter. Stretching up on tiptoes, she took his face between her palms and kissed him affectionately on both cheeks several times.

As she ushered them inside, Lyle discovered he had temporarily lost the ability to control his jaw muscles- shock had left them slack. However, those same muscles directly stiffened, grinding his teeth together, when he saw Amelia's brother, Mario standing on the other side of the door. The young man did not look happy to see his brother-in-law.

"Mario!" Gianina exclaimed, clapping her hands together with joy. "Sguardo che è venuto a casa!"

Ignoring Lyle, Mario swept his sister into hug and spun her around in circles.

"Li abbiamo mancati, Fioretta," he whispered in her ear. "Sto cominciando a pensare che desideriate guidarli pazzeschi con la preoccupazione."

"I know," she said sheepishly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

He shrugged as he let her go. "Doesn't matter anymore. You're here now." His vision caught on her glittering engagement ring and diamond band on her wedding finger bringing a pensive look to his features. Gianina took Amelia away before he could question her about it. The two men were left standing in the small living room alone.

They stared at one another, each suspicious of the other; for a long moment neither breathed. Finally, Mario took a step forward.

"So… Is the marriage the real deal this time? Or elaborate concoction in another bizarre story?" He folded his arms across his chest to further punctuate his skepticism.

Lyle's hand went to his collar to adjust a tie that wasn't there. "It's real," he answered after a several second pause. "Unfortunately," he confided without thinking. "That doesn't mean that the story isn't strange."

Mario nodded darkly, then shrugged. His countenance cleared and he dropped his hands to his side. "Maybe you can tell the story later. Right now Nonna's got a meal cooking that she's convinced will bring Mia's memory back." He turned in the direction of the kitchen, but stopped as he reached the doorway. "Oh," he remarked off-handedly, "welcome to the family." He then added, slightly embarrassed, "By the way, what name do you want me to use?"

Lyle smiled wanly. "Ly- no, call me Robert," he decided. "I prefer Robert."

* * *

As he followed Mario into the kitchen a disturbing thought that had been nagging him for the past few minutes now surged to the forefront of his mind. The marriage was real, he had told Mario because that's what he believed. However, Lyle could not recollect ever signing a marriage license.

* * *

The day was pleasant as Jarod walked through the City on his way to visit his new friends in Central Park. He had spoken earlier to a self-effacing Kip who had assured him that he had not called Mr. Lyle's office any further. Still, he felt it wise to pay Kip a personal visit to make sure the boy was over his puppy love. 

Traffic was heavy and fierce at the last intersection he needed to cross to reach the Park. A young woman in her early twenties struggled to maneuver a stroller through the throng of people. The instant the mass was able to cross the intersection, something resembling a mass exodus occurred, sweeping the girl and stroller along with it. Jarod kept one eye on her and one on the vehicles impatient to cross. Suddenly, the stroller pulled out of the girl's grip. Automatically, the Pretender caught hold of the buggy by the handle and guided it to safety and to the very grateful babysitter. The girl thanked him profusely, but declined any further assistance.

He wasn't half a block away from the intersection when he heard a gut-wrenching scream pierce the din of City life. A sickening feeling flooded him as he rushed toward the continued screaming. Fleetingly he wondered why more people weren't at least investigating the cause of the distress. A several passersby stopped to stare, a few milled around the scene with lost looks, and one man was standing over the screamer.

"What happened?" Jarod asked, trying to catch his breath.

A middle-aged African-American man gave him a puzzled look. "I don't know," he answered helpless. "Some guy rushed by here and she started screaming. I thought he stole something from her, but I couldn't run him down."

"Miss?" Jared knelt down besides the terrified young woman and inhaled sharply when he realized it was the same girl he had helped across the intersection.

She stared up at him with unseeing eyes, her mouth still open but no sound emanated from her throat. It was then that Jared could see the source of her agony. Clutched to her chest was the child- still, jaundiced, and silent. A deep crimson stained the child's clothes around her abdomen.

"Oh, my-" the man beside them swore, in shock at the blood draining from the child.

"Do you have a cell phone?" Jarod asked sharply, taking the child from the shaken sitter. The man nodded. "Good, call 911. Then stay with her."

"No, problem." The man was about to comply when he paused and gave Jared a curious look- the Pretender was already beginning to tend to the child. "You a doctor?" He was concerned that the man might do more damage to the infant.

"Dr. Jarod Caceres, pediatric endosurgery," he answered absently. They had minimal time to save the child and couldn't linger on petty details.

"Must be the luckiest kid on earth," the man murmured as he dialed the emergency number. "To have just the right surgeon come running to help."

* * *

The Centre's lead computer technician had, as of late, acquired the unwelcome knack of discovering something bizarre within the Centre while searching for something else entirely. Broots was beginning to wonder what he done to bring such an undesirable ability upon himself and if there was anything he could to reverse the curse. 

Miss Parker had directed him to retrieve Sydney from whatever "preparations" he was in the midst of as she was tired of waiting on him to come of his own volition and on his way to the doctor's office he passed by an exquisite Asian woman. She was about 5'4" with long black hair tied behind her shoulders in a simple ponytail. There were two things that stood out to Broots as inherently peculiar about her. First was her abnormally frail appearance- she didn't look strong enough to open a door or do anything more taxing than make a bed. The second was her attire: an all black jumpsuit with a black belt secured around her small waist, black gloves, and black boots.

She noticed Broots immediately, stopped, and turned to him with a curious expression. "Excuse me, sir," she said in crisp, unaccented English.

"No, excuse me," Broots smile apologetically. His cheeks burned crimson when he realized he was staring at her. She returned his smile with a sweet, benign one of her own. "My name is Broots," he offered suddenly, remembering his manners. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The smile deepened with shades of something he could not place. "Perhaps," she said demurely. "My name is Kane Michiyo, but you may call me Gogo, Mr. Broots. I am looking for an particular office."

"Oh," he said, still curious about her unusual nickname. "Sure. Whose office?" It never once occurred to him that she would be looking for any office than Lyle's.

"I am looking for Mr. Raines' office."

"M-m-mr. Raines?" the technician was taken aback momentarily. "Well, you're on the wrong floor, first of all."

"Perhaps you could escort me to his office, Mr. Broots." Her chaste expression was contradicted with the cunning ire smoldering in her dark eyes.

"Yeah, sure." Broots swallowed hard. He had the disturbing presentiment that something was terribly amiss. And besides, Raines' office was the last place he wanted to go.

He planned to take her to the appropriate corridor, point the door out to her, and leave as swiftly as possible, but Gogo insisted that he take her up to the door and wait until she was inside. Protesting did him no good; she was much stronger than she appeared.

Willie answered Gogo's knock and Raines was waiting expectantly for her inside. Upon seeing Broots, Raines stood and approached him with his lips curled in manner that Broots assumed were supposed to be a smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Broots," the man hissed, stepping in front of Gogo. "I appreciate you bringing my new guard to me."

_Guard?_ Broots gulped. "S-sure, Mr. Raines. It was no trouble." He waved weakly, praying that he would not be asked inside the room.

He was not. The door closed and Broots was alone in the hall.

* * *

_I did not lie. I did not lie._

That was Kip's new mantra. When Jarod called earlier in the day to inform Kip that he was back from his business trip, he had specifically asked if there had been any further calls placed to Mr. Lyle's office. Kip said there hadn't been. And it was true- he hadn't called the office again, not even once. Jared had not asked if he had received any calls from Mr. Lyle himself, therefore he was exonerated of perjury. Right?

_I did not lie. I did not lie. He called me. I did not call him. I did not lie._

Kip stood under the eaves of The Garden, a strange little all-night café that look like, well a garden. It was five minutes until midnight and he was having serious reservations about meeting Mr. Lyle so late at night.

_I wish I had thought this out more!_

He began to rehearse his script in head, but to his dismay found the details difficult to capture. Each time he went through the story, something changed. His play was unraveling before it had even begun.

The pace of the City had not diminished as one might have expected; it just evolved into a more mysterious ambiance. Ordinarily, Kip would have enjoyed watching the City nightlife, but not tonight- every movement, every footstep, every breath made him jump and put him more on edge. Ephemerally, he wondered if he was too young to have an infarction.

Minutes passed and midnight neared. Kip prayed that Mr. Lyle would not keep his appointment and he would be free to go. If that happened, he would put Amelia out of his head somehow and never call that number again. It also occurred to Kip that he could have simply stayed home, but all the "shoulda, coulda, wouldas" in the world were useless to him now. Midnight chimed and Kip felt hot breathe on his the back of his neck.

The youth spun fearfully around and found himself staring into bottomless artic eyes.

_The man from the Park! _Kip felt his blood turn to ice. There was something terrifyingly ominous about the man in the shadows.

"Kip Buchanan?" The man's voice was as frigid as his eyes and laced with rancor.

Kip found he had swallowed his tongue or at least it felt like it. He struggled to say something beyond dim-witted stammerings. "Mr. Lyle?" he finally managed, sounding like a five-year-old. He could not put any strength into his words.

The man stepped forward into light and as he did his lips curled over white teeth in a snarl. When he entered the ring of light Kip stood in, the boy saw that the man was not snarling as he had thought, but was smiling pleasantly. There was no trace of the sinister man of the shadows. The Mr. Lyle before him could not have been more affable or amenable. He gripped Kip's hand firmly when they shook hands; Kip was still trembling from nerves and more than a little bewildered. If Mr. Lyle noticed the boy's fear, he ignored it.

"It's nice to meet you, son," Lyle said earnestly. "I'm sorry to have you out so late, but I really couldn't get away from the office any sooner."

"N-no problem," Kip said, relaxing only slightly. The forewarnings of earlier still lingered in his gut. "It's not so late."

Lyle chuckled. "No, I guess not for the young it isn't." His right hand now gripped Kip's shoulder making the youth squirm. "Look, this really isn't a safe place to sort this matter out. I'm staying at the Plaza. Why don't you come with me? We can talk and you can see for yourself that my wife is fine. You'll see this has all been a misunderstanding."

Kip nodded shakily, unsure of what to do. He was afraid to agree to the man's terms and afraid to refuse at the same time. "It's a long walk to the Plaza from here," he pointed out weakly, hoping to find a way out the mess he was in.

The man chortled again, but there was a dark edge to the laugh. "We'll take the car," he said, gesturing to the street next to them.

Kip blinked. Where there had been nothing before, a black town car now idled by the curb. He was directed to the vehicle by the iron grip on his shoulder and faceless chauffer drove them away.

It was then that Kip's infatuation-induced haze vanished. Oh, how he wished he had listened to Jared!

* * *

N_ext:_

**_Chapter 9: Surviving'Til Morrow_**

"_Woe to those who trust the charming and are beguiled by handsome appearance. For once ensnared in the serpent's trap, charm turns to wickedness and handsome visage to the countenance of evil." _– _Mercedes Aria_

* * *

_AN: Anyone catch the Kill Bill nod? ;p_


	12. Surviving 'Til Morrow

_AN: I've outlined the story up to chapter 14 and I just wanted to warn everyone that Jarod's appearances after Chapter 10 are rare until Chapter 15. You'll see why when we get there. I just wanted the Jarod fans to know that he hasn't been written out or anything he'll just be laying low waiting to make his move. As for the Jarod/Parker shippers out there, I haven't forgotten our favorite couple, either. Their next face-to-face meeting will be accompanied by fireworks… and not necessarily in a good way! Parker will still be smarting from Jarod's perceived betrayal with Zoë. So Jarod getting to finish what he tried to tell Parker prior to Dominatus imploding is contingent on whether she'll hear what he has to say about Zoë. _

_**LJP**: He does have Pretender genes, after all. Lol. Or does he? Hmmm, maybe Raines lied about that, too… With Cox off his back, Lyle has the time to take a little side trip. Of course, this isn't really a pleasure trip…_

_**NYT**: I'm glad you enjoyed it! Yes, Lyle telling Mario to call him Robert is a step in the right direction. But the road to Redemption is a long and rocky one and there will be major obstacles along the way. _

_**Imag1ne**: Thank you for letting me know I'm still writing Lyle well. Sometimes, it's hard to tell! No, Kip's really not all that sharp; he's very, very naïve. Lol. Though something tells me that he's going to get wise very quick… if he makes out of all this. Oh, and that confrontation you were looking for between Lyle and Jarod- it begins in this chapter._

_**Gemini**: Kip will certainly be sobered up quickly, that's for sure. As for Gogo, I don't know why but when you mentioned her possibly being a Salsa instructor for Raines, it made me think of one of the last scenes in "Cold Dick". Yeesh! I'm still trying to get that image of Raines out of my head! Lol Talk about something that'll give you nightmares… _

_**Nans**: Glad I could accommodate. Sydney won't appear much in this chapter, but he plays a critical part in the following chapters. _

_As for the Kill Bill reference: Gogo was named after Go Go Yubarithe ball and chain wielding seventeen-year-old schoolgirl who served as Oren Ishii's bodyguard. _

_Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and to those who are also reviewing. Reviews are so very much appreciated. _

_Lyrics by Madonna and the Police_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Surviving 'Til Morrow**

"_Woe to those who trust the charming and are beguiled by handsome appearance. For once ensnared in the serpent's trap, charm turns to wickedness and handsome visage to the countenance of evil." _

–_Mercedes Aria_

* * *

…_**You make me wanna hang my head down and cry… If you gave me half a chance you'd see, but you choose to look the other way…**_

The darkness of the luxury suite was all encompassing. Amelia lay tangled in the sheets of the custom fretted king sized bed but still felt a lonely chill. She should have been content and satisfied. After leaving her grandmother and brother, Lyle had taken her on whirlwind tour of her home city before bringing her to the Plaza, which was best known as the home of Eloise- her favorite children's book heroine, or so her husband told her. That was yet another memory that eluded her. The night had been filled with romance: a trip to the Plaza's in-house art gallery, an exquisite diamond necklace and matching bracelet from Tiffany's, dessert from Neuchatel Chocolates, and a performance of _Phantom of the Opera_ at the Majestic Theatre; all that and Amelia was left feeling empty. As nice as all of that was, the one thing she wanted she did not get- her husband. Physically, he was there, but mentally he was far away. Just as he was now.

He had left their bed around twenty 'til midnight, dressed in his finest suit, and disappeared, leaving her imagination to run wild as to where he might be. Unhappily, she lay awake envisioning the faces of the women he might be dallying with. _So much for a second honeymoon_, she had thought.

He had returned shortly after 1:00am and slipped back into bed. She had repressed a distressed sigh. Barely an hour gone- was that enough time for a fling? She had no experience in the area- or so she could recall- and was uncertain. Intuitively, she felt she was being foolish for assuming that he had been cheating on her, yet she could not imagine what else would have taken him out so late.

_**I think that you're afraid to look in my eyes… You look a little sad, boy, I wonder why.. I follow you around but you can't see; you're too wrapped up in yourself to notice…**_

Under the pretense that she was and had been sleeping, Amelia watched him toss and turned restlessly, fighting for a position adequate enough to rest in.

His tension and unease was palpable. She worried about the source of such distress- he seemed to be caught in the midst of insomnia and a nightmare. Several minutes passed before he briefly settled on his back and a frustrated sigh indicated that he was still awake.

_**Well, I've got something to say: don't try to run I can keep up with you… Nothing can stop me from trying… **_

Carefully, as not to startle him, she slipped closer to him to bridge the space between them. Gingerly, she wrapped her fingers around his forearm and pressed her lips lightly into his shoulder. Though wearing silk pajama bottoms, he had failed to change out of his dress shirt- it was still fully buttoned and even tucked into the waistband. He stirred at her touched. Several moments later, he turned towards her enough to rest his cheek on the top of her head.

_**Open your heart with the key- one is such a lonely number…**_

They lay there for over an hour as she massaged his exposed left hand, pausing every so often to play with the ring on his finger. Only when his breathing eventually evened out and he drifted off in slumber, did she, too, finally rest.

_**  
I'll give you love if you turn the key…**_

* * *

Kip was unaccustomed to such extravagant dwellings, especially in a hotel. Until this moment, the nicest place he had stayed was a Courtyard by Marriott. The Plaza was more like a palace. He couldn't believe Mr. Lyle actually put him up in a room of his very own. Mr. Lyle had said it was the least he could since he had Kip out so late. He couldn't wait to tell Anthony and Sierra about this!

The anxiety and fear that accumulated over the past week left him drained and exhausted; Kip fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Morning came sooner that he expected. An 8 am wakeup call from the front desk informed him that Mr. Lyle was expecting him for breakfast in the Palm Court in half an hour. While he hurried to make himself presentable, Kip mulled over the strange meeting and subsequent drive to the Plaza. From his time with Mr. Lyle, he could see nothing deviant about the man. He was quite the self-effacing host, genial, sociable. Kip particularly enjoyed talking with him, though Mr. Lyle did not reveal much about himself.Kip could notgather how long he and Amelia had married, how they met, or if they had children and he found himself unable to ask such personal questions. He did, however, ask about Mr. Lyle's occupation, as he was curious as how the man obtained his wealth. Again, his host was vague saying only that he was in the "family business".

Kip felt himself warming even more to Mr. Lyle when conversation turned to Kip's interests and ambitions. His host was fully supportive of his acting pursuit and did not laugh or condescend him for it. It was a welcomed change from the derisive remarks and patronizing looks he usually received upon informing people of his theatre major.

The concierge, courtesy of Mr. Lyle, had brought up a fresh set of clothing. Kip was pleasantly surprised to find the designer labels that accompanied each article.

With all that had happened in a few short hours, Kip had all but forgotten about his fairytale ending with Amelia.

* * *

_**There's a little black spot on the sun today It's the same old thing as yesterday…**__Hehe…_

They were chattering again after six months of silence and they had much to say.

_Look,_ they booed, _Beauty found her prince… oh, no, wait, she only found you. Feh! What good is that?_

Their incessant berating would not allow him rest. The more restless he became the more they harassed. For a very short period they were hushed- gagged by her touch. But when morning broke, their jeering rudely awakened him.

_Beauty and the Beast- how sweet- only no kiss will ever turn you into a prince_, they hissed. _She'll remember what you are and when she does there'll be no happy ending for you! _

Their mocking laughter reverberated in his ears setting him on the outskirts of sanity. And worse, the voices distinctly sounded like those of Lyle Bowman and Raines.

Amelia was not happy with him for leaving her behind. Something told him that she knew he had left in the wee hours and that added to her unhappiness with him. But ifthat was it, she did not say and wastoo exhausted to argue.She curled up on his side of the bed,asleep before he left the room.

He sighed despondently. As he much as he would have preferred to stay with her, he had a snoop to dispose of.

_**I have stood here before inside the pouring rain… With the world turning circles running 'round my brain… I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign… But it's my destiny to be the king of pain…**_

In the Palm Court, he reclined at a table in a far corner of the restaurant, half-obscured by one of the trees that gave the Court its name. He held a cup of coffee in his good hand, every so often lifting it to his lips only to set it down again without drinking any of the beverage. Eventually, he released the cup and settled for toying with the bandage around his left hand. It was rare that he left that hand exposed- he hated the gawks and rude questions it drew. However, he grimly noted, the white bandage drew far less attention than did the glove.

Petulantly, he studied his injured hand and its casing, wondering what the boy's reaction to it would be; he had yet to decided whether he was going to play it for sympathy or coercion. **_  
_**

_**There's a little black spot on the sun today- that's my soul up there… It's the same old thing as yesterday… There's a black hat caught in a high tree top- that's my soul up there…  
**_

Kip arrived in the Palm Court right on time which came as a surprise to Lyle- college kids were not known for their punctuality. Breakfast was served shortly after being ordered and Lyle was forced to engage in mundane small talk as Kip chattered on relentlessly from either nerves or a personality quirk.

During the conversation, Lyle couldn't help but notice how naïve the young man was- green all the way through. The boy was little more than another starry-eyed youth who, given a few years in the real world, would become an embittered, jaded old man. The idea was darkly humorous to Lyle who delighted in seeing the dreams of others shattered as his had been and the crueler the shattering the more satisfying it was.

Once the meal was over, Lyle, tired of mindless drivel, got down to the business at hand.

"Kip," he began with a engaging smile, "I realize that our first meeting was… peculiar, to say the least and I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me."

"Well, yes," he admitted a tad guiltily. "Quite a few actually."

"Ask." The older man spread his hands out in a gesture of openness.

"Well," the boy's gaze caught on his host's left hand. Though curious about the bandage, he refrained from commenting on it, as he did not want to be perceived as rude. "The whole amnesia thing still bothers me."

"It bothers me as well. My wife has a history of pulling stunts in order to get my attention, but nothing quite as big or as public as the amnesia thing. She's quite the actress, isn't she?"

Kip nodded uncertainly. She would be quite the actress _if _it really had been an act. "She seemed really afraid of you… of everyone. She didn't have any identification on her or even a purse. Anyone could have shown up and claimed her."

A tight smile stretched over Lyle's lips. "I see you still believe her claim- all right. Yes, it is true that anyone could have claimed her. And I know what you're getting at. You want to know if I'm really her husband or a serial killer with a penchant for young women."

Kip let out a discomfited laugh. "I wouldn't put it in those terms exactly."

"I'm not offended, honestly," Lyle chuckled, strategically placing his left hand on the table so that the youth could get a better look at the deformity. "But the very best I can do is show you ID and give you my word that I am who I say I am."

"I'd feel better if I heard that from Amelia herself." Kip did not want Mr. Lyle to think he was dealing with a child and tried to feign an air of authority as he accepted the driver's license that he was offered. He saw nothing usual about the identification and noted that his host's surname was Parker.

"You're smitten with her, aren't you?" Lyle watched him with a sly smirk. Though his tone was still light and good-humored there was a manner of entrapment underlying the jab.

Stunned at being called out, Kip was caught so off guard that he had no response.

"Come on, Kip," Lyle cajoled,chuckling at the boy's ashen features. "What? You don't think I understand?"

Kip's embarrassment reached all the way to his toes. "I didn't think it was that obvious," he muttered.

"Not that obvious!" This garnered an irreverent bout of laughter from the older man. "Please! I could tell you were head over heels the moment I saw you with her. Nothing could have been more obvious."

Kip desperately wished that the ground under him would open up and swallow him, saving him from having to face Mr. Lyle any further.

"I'm sorry," Lyle apologized, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm used to men falling for my wife. It happens daily. Oh," he said, suddenly remembering something Kip had said earlier. "You can speak to her later. She's still asleep at the moment."

"Oh, late night out?" Kip remarked lamely, urgently trying to take the focus off himself.

This brought a different type of smirk to Lyle's face. "No," he returned surreptitiously, "late night _in._"

Kip's blush deepened. At the same time, envy began to creep into his consciousness. Just as his discomfort peaked, Lyle got down to the serious business.

"You said on the phone that there was someone looking for my wife." His smile evaporated and merriment dissipated from his eyes.

"Someone who looks like her," Kip clarified. He had almost forgotten about the story that had brought him to this moment. Quickly, he slipped into character and summoned up his monologue. "The guy's a Broadway producer and he's looking for his fiancée. The photograph he showed me looked exactly like Amelia. So when she showed up in the Park with amnesia I thought that she could very well be the missing fiancée. I needed to make sure, you understand."

"Of course," Lyle smiled thinly. It was apparent that the story was rehearsed, which made him anxious about who was really looking for Amelia. Only a handful of people came to mind. "Tell me," he said, testing the boy's tale for the breaking point. "What's the girl's name?"

Oblivious to the other man's suspicions, Kip barreled on with the script. "Sierra Whittaker. She's a dancer in Broadway shows."

"That's interesting. You know, my wife is a big Broadway fan. What show is the girl in?"

He hesitated, unprepared for the query. "Uh, I believe she was between jobs when she disappeared."

Lyle studied him with an oblique expression. "I haven't seen anything in the news about the disappearance," he challenged. "I'm sureMia would have heard something about it as into the theatre scene as she is."

"The producer wanted to keep it quiet," He yipped too quickly. Kip's mouth began to dry out as his story weakened and began to crumble. "Until he was sure she wasn't just trying to scare him. I guess they had a fight or something."

"Why didn't you go to the police? Why did you agree to meet with me first?" Each question knocked another legout from underKip's story.

"Well, I mean why complicate things unnecessarily? I figure I could ask and maybe talk to Amelia. I certainly didn't want to get the police involved if she really is your wife. It could just be coincidence that the two look alike."

_Stupid, stupid boy, _Lyle thought. "That would be quite a coincidence," Lyle agreed forebodingly. "What's the name of this producer?"

The question rattled Kip immensely. In all his carefully planning, he never named his fictitious character and now he had to scramble for a name- any name. "Jarod," he said, using the first moniker that came to mind.

A shady veil descended over the other man's azure eyes. A distinctly dark change occurred in his demeanor. "Last name?"

"Macintosh." Internally, Kip cringed at the stupid choice of surnames. Macintosh was too famous a name to be plausible.

_As in Cameron Macintosh, _Lyle groused mentally. _How very Jarod like. _He fought the urge to spit as the name left a pungent taste in his mouth.

As quickly as it had departed, the genial attitude returned as Lyle pushed himself away from the table. "Let me call my wife and see if she's up yet," he excused himself. "Then we can settle this matter once and for all."

Kip smiled wanly, feeling as if he had just weathered a major catastrophe. He was beginning to rethink his career choice. So far it had caused him nothing but trouble.

* * *

The last thing she wanted was a visitor, but he had insisted. Without giving her any clue to the person's identity, he gave her fifteen minutes to get up and dressed. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a black cashmere sweater, Amelia wondered why he even bothered to bring her with him as it seemed obvious that he didn't want to spend any time with her. 

A key card in the suite door alerted her to her husband's return. She greeted with the perfunctory kiss and politely greeted his guest with a kindly smile, despite feeling antisocial.

"Mia," Lyle slipped a possessive arm around her waist with more affection than he'd shown in the last twenty-four hours, "this is Kip Buchanan. He's been asking to meet you."

She shot her husband a quizzical look before taking Kip's outstretched hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Kip," she said, her smile faltering a bit at the boy's reluctance to return her hand to her. The hungry way he looked at her made her extremely uncomfortable. "How can I help you?" she asked civilly while thinking _And how can I get you out of here the quickest?_

Kip's grin quickly faded when he realized that she didn't recognize him. "We met in Central Park four days ago. Don't you remember?"

Amelia tipped her head to the side and studied him seriously. Kip expanded his broad chest a bit as though that might somehow help her remember him. Finally, she shook her head contritely, "No, I'm sorry. I don't."

Kip looked absolutely devastated and she felt badly for him. However, she was at a loss as to what to do and looked to Lyle for help.

"Mia," Lyle explained, "Kip was the one who helped you during that, uh, amnesia scare. You see he believes that I kidnapped you, subjecting you to God knows what and that you're really the fiancée of a Broadway producer."

Itwasn't until Lyle's retelling that Kip realized how absurd his story really was.

Amelia pressed her lips firmly together, trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry, Kip," she said amusedly. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken. I wasn't kidnapped and Bo- Lyle is my husband. I'm not the girl you're looking for." At the embarrassed and confused look on the youth's face she added, "I'm sorry you went through so much trouble, but I really appreciate your concern. You're really sweet."

_I don't want to be really sweet_, Kip thought disconsolately. _This isn't how things are supposed to turn out!_

Then suddenly he thought of something that renewed his vain hope. "Could I speak to Amelia alone?" he addressed Lyle sternly. His request was based on the reasoning that she was only collaborating with Lyle out of fear. She might confide in him if they were away from the imposing figure of her "husband". "If everything you've told me is true, then you won't object to me speaking with her about it in private."

* * *

_**There's a butterfly trapped in a spider's web- that's my soul up there… I have stood here before inside the pouring rain with the world turning circles running 'round my brain…  
**_

Flabbergasted, Lyle glowered viciously at Kip, unable to believe what he was hearing. How dare this impudent stupid child confront him!

Next to him, Amelia's brow furrowed in annoyance as she couldn't fathom what this Kip wanted with her and why he was challenging her husband's integrity. She insinuated from his story and Lyle's that she had no prior relationship to Kip other than a chance meeting in Central Park. And she also gathered that Kip wanted to change that, regardless of her marital status.

"Come on, Amelia," Kip urged, reaching out a hand to her. He was becoming more confident that his gut was right about something being wrong with their relationship. "Let's go to the Palm Court and talk."At this point, he thought going to the police would be wiseand had very intention of taking Amelia and bypassing the Court, going straight to the front desk for help.

She stared at him with a strange expression as thought she wasn't quite sure what to make of him. The only move she made was to sink further against the man beside her.

"No." Lyle's voice froze the air around them. He grabbed the hand stretching for his wife with his left hand, relishing the horror that scrawled across the boy's face as he realized the hand that held him was missing its thumb. A plan had been boiling in the back of his mind for some time and at that moment of contact, the details became vividly clear as how to rid himself of two thorns in his side at the same time.

_**  
There's a king on a throne with his eyes torn out… There's a blind man looking for a shadow of doubt… There's a rich man sleeping on a golden bed… There's a skeleton choking on a crust of bread… **_

_**It's my destiny to be the king of pain…**_

* * *

Dr. Jarod Caceres from the University of Chicago' s Department of Surgery was feeling grateful and content after performing, with a team of elite specialists, a successful laparoscopic adrenalectomy on the infant who had been stabbed in the abdomen near Central Park. The child was currently resting in recovery with her relieved parents and babysitter nearby. To make good news better, the police had apprehended the suspect responsible for the crime when he attempted to hide in a group home for the mentally handicapped. Thomas James, the man who had also helped the babysitter, was able to identify the man from a police lineup, which putthe manbehind bars.

The Pretender yawned as heheaded across an intersection. He was weary from the long surgery, but satisfied nonetheless. Once, he checked in on Kip, he promised himself some much needed rest. As Strawberry Fields came into view Jarod scanned the area for Kip's cart. He located the concession stand easily, but discovered that he did not know any of the staff working it. One of the girls, however, did know Anthony and was able to give Jarod his dorm number.

Anthony was enormously relieved to hear from the Pretender and also very worried about their mutual friend. He invited Jarod over to his dorm room in order to discuss with him a "very urgent matter".

* * *

Back in his lair, Jarod was not able to rest. If anything, he was wired awake by adrenaline. His meeting with Anthony had revealed disconcerting information. Kip, he learned, had still withheld the truth from him. While he may not have called Lyle's office himself, he had not told the Pretender that Lyle had called him. Though disgruntled with the foolish boy, he was too concerned to be angry with him.

Anthony had not known the specifics of the meeting he just knew that Kip had not contacted anyone as he said he would afterwards. And that distressed Jarod more than anything.

Picking up the phone, the Pretender called the one person who could help.

* * *

"This is Sydney."

Immediately, Jarod hear incongruity in the psychologist's voice.

"How are things at the asylum?" he joked with more humour than he felt. A dark sense of foreboding loomed over him.

"Jarod." The word came out sounding disconnected as though there was little recognition behind it. "Things here are as you would expect."

He felt like he had interrupted the doctor at an inopportune time and that the disruption was unwelcome. "Have you seen Lyle lately?"

Silence answered him. He couldn't even hear any breathing on the other end of the line. "Sydney?" Intense worry permeated his query.

"No, Jarod," he answered flatly. "If you'll excuse me, I have some work to attend."

That was it. A dial tone buzzed irritatingly as he continued to hold the receiver up to his ear. Hurt and rejection mingled with shock in his gut. He couldn't believe Sydney had just hung up on him.

* * *

He almost called Parker to inquire of her brother's possible whereabouts after the unsettling call to his former handler, but he did not for two reasons. The most pertinent was time, which there was little of. The second boiled down to avoidance of an issue that lingered between the childhood friends. Jarod justified putting off calling her to himself by reasoning that he would just ended up wasting timeby trying to getinformation out of her and that she would try to get _his _whereabouts out of him. However, Jarod was also acutely aware that he could terminate the call at anytime if it became fruitless and that it would be simple to mislead her regarding his location. The truth of the matter wasthat he was afraid. The concept was bemusing. He had not made a personal call to Parker since the anniversary of Thomas' death and he was worried that, without that eventto shield him, he might be confronted about the last real conversation they had- the one Zoë had so untimely interrupted. It wasn't that he was afraid of that as much as it was that he was afraid she was still angry with him for a deception he wasn't sure he had comitted.What she percieved as deception still puzzled him- he had never intentionally misled her. Avoidance was what had landed him on the stoop of Gianina Micelli's new Brooklyn residence, though he most likely would have ended up there anyway as Amelia seemed to be at the heart of the current trouble.

The doorbell was finally answered and the door cracked opened as far as the chain lock would allow.

"Che cosa desiderate?" the older woman inside demanded. Amelia's grandmother was not incapable of speaking English- in actuality she was fluent in the language- she simply spoke it when it suited her. And it did not suit her at the moment.

"Sig.ra Micelli?" Jarod smiled engagingly. A Brooklyn accent tainted his words. "Sto cercando Mario. È domestico?"

Gianina was now undoubtedly more suspicious of an Italian-speaking stranger she knew was her family was not related to.

It was then that the Pretender realized Gianina did not recognize him as they had only met briefly once. "I'm a friend of Mario and Mia's," he explained reverting back to English. "I'm Jarod."

"Jarod chi?" She barked eying him suspiciously.

"Ciccone," he said without missing a beat.

Gianina sniffed contemptuously, even though she was softening just a bit towards the handsome young man. She knew many of Mario's friends, but few of Amelia's, and could not recall either of them ever mentioning a Jarod Ciccone, though she herself knew quite a few Ciccones.

"Mario's not here," she finally responded in heavily accented English. "He's in Queens running some errands for the restaurant. He won't be back until late. Mia's not here either."

"Do you know where I might catch up with her?"

"They are notstaying with us."

Jarod looked puzzled. "They?" Then it hit him. "Bobby's with her? Bobby Bowman?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "You know Bobby?"

"Yeah," he agreed amiably. "Sure we go way back. Haven't seen him in ages though. Do you know where they're staying? I'd love to catch up with him."

Gianina felt there was something inherently wrong with the situation. Just a few short months before, a rash of strangers all claiming to know Amelia showed up on her doorstep and left nothing but trouble behind. Despite his kind eyes and sweet demeanor, it did not change the fact that she did not know him and thus did not trust him.

"No, I don't," she told him, but thought: _I don't know that they are staying at the Plaza in Room 233. _"Scusilo. Ho lavoro da fare."

Jarod stared at the door that had been closed in his face. It was the second time in a few hours that he had been given the excuse that someone had work to do and had the feeling that someone was hiding something from him.

* * *

Even more discouraged than before, Jarod returned "home". It looked like he was going to have to make that call to Parker after all. He switched on his laptop before reaching for the phone. Just as he was about to dial her number the computer alerted him to a new email. Jarod frowned. The sender's address was unrecognizable and the file contained a video attachment. Who knew where to contact him? Sydney? His father? A small beacon of hope broke through the gloom as he opened the file.

A wave of despair overwhelmed him at the sight that greeted him.

A young man bound, gagged, and unconscious in a chair in a dark room- Kip. It was crystal clear whose calling card this was- Lyle's signature was all over it.

Sure enough, his archenemies appeared on screen standing behind the boy with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Jarod!" he greeted him jovially. "How are you doing? It's been awhile."

A light flipped on, illuminating the room that looked like the interior ofa shed.

A sense of déjà vu hit Jarod in the stomach as he could now see the jumper cables in Lyle's right hand and the battery they were attached to.

Lyle grinned as though he intrinsically knew were Jarod's gaze would go. "Remember these?" he asked crassly, straightening up. He clashed the conductor heads together demonstrating that the battery was indeed alive.

"How great is this?" Lyle cooed, positively delighted with whatever scheme he had cooked up. "I came to the City with my beautiful new bride and now I'm going to leave with both her and… you!" He let the weight of his words sink in, waving the cables in small circles around Kip's limp figure. "I'm sure you're wondering how I plan on doing that. It's simple really."

Lyle stopped and stared directly into the camera. His face was dark and deadly. "I know you know Kip and I know you're looking for Amelia. I also know you have the propensityto help the weak and abused, which is exactly what Kip, will be if you don't comply with _my_ terms. It's you for him. And the conditions are these: if you don't meet me at the East River Docks at ten tonight, I'll kill the boy. If you try to find Amelia or get near her, I'll kill him. And if you try to play the hero, I'll kill him." He paused in the morbid discourse long enough to give the Pretender a demented wink. "After I torture himfirst, of course." The cables sparked dangerously close to Kip's head. "You for him. Ten o'clock tonight. East River Docks. Don't be late."

Lyle moved forward to end filming, but before he did, he bent down and issued Jarod a farewell. "Enjoy you last few hours of freedom. I'll see you soon."

_**I'll always be king of pain…**_


	13. Night of Nights

_AN For Part 1: I hope the low review response for the last chapter was due to everyone being busy and not because they didn't care for it! Yikes, I'm a tad worried now. No, kidding… sort of.. Lol. Anyway, here's the showdown, which essentially solves nothing- it just sets off a chain reaction that will continue for the rest of the story. Look for Broots and Sydney to return in the next chapter and, of course, the incomparable Miss Parker. _

_**LJP**: It is getting very serious indeed!_

_**NYT**: Let me just say that I have a soft spot for Bobby. :)_

_**Topanga:** Thank you for the review and critique. I don't have a beta reader, actually. I figure that as a former English major I ought to be able to do that myself, though I do get careless in proofing when I'm in a hurry to get a chapter out. I do, though, really appreciate you catching my errors and letting me know. _

_**Pop Culture reference in Chapter 9**: I just finished watching the season 2 Pretender DVDs and realizing I had been ignoring for the most part the pop culture reference that were frequently apart of Jarod's pretends. In chapter 9, the last name that Jarod used as a surgeon, Caceres is the real last name of a surgeon from the University of Chicago who specializes in pediatric surgery and the particular operation that Jarod performed. Also, the Italian name he used when speaking to Mia's grandmother, Ciccone, is Madonna's last name._

_**AN for Part 2**: __Many of you reading maybe thinking that the story is interesting and exciting and all that, but where are Miss Parker, Sydney, and the others? Hang on for just a bit longer as soon (next chapter soon) they will be fully embroiled in this lovely mess, too. _

_Again, thank you to everyone who is reading and also to those who are reviewing. _

_JLC: I will try to update more frequently as midterms are now over. I'm glad you are enjoying it:).  
_

_**Topanga**: I am very impressed with your grammatical knowledge. As a former English major (now Elementary Education), nothing is more irritating that misuse or abuse of languages. However, I would like to mention that I took a creative license and purposely used a double negative to illustrate a point. In the preceding sentences I was hoping to convey that Jarod had walked into a situation that was abnormal because there was nothing around him to indicate that he was walking into a set up- that was what so disturbed him. I couldn't say "he didn't trust anything" because that would not be accurate. I was trying to imply that it was the "nothing" he did not trust. I am sure there is probably a far better way to word this idea, but it is simply out of my reach for the time being. Though if you can offer a suggestion, I'd be very grateful. I do want to allay your fears concerning poor grammar, though, because I, too, cringe when I come upon it. It's like nails across a chalkboard, isn't? ;)_

_**Gemini**: Ah, so many questions! Here are some of the answers brought to you as soon as I possibly could._

_**NYT**: I fear this chapter, too, will be short. However, these upcoming ones will be much meatier._

_**Imag1ne**: I'm happy to know that Lyle hasn't become predictable because as soon as that happens… well, there really is no point in continuing is there? Kidding…_

_**LJP**: You're not the only one hoping that- Jarod and Kip both are hoping he'll be restored to his "normal, psychotic self." I love that description, by the way. As odd as it sounds, it is completely accurate._

_Lyrics by Evanescence_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 10: Night of Nights- Part 1**

"_We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful, and now the redskins in their blankets were at their posts above, while, below, the children were having their evening meal…" –Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie_

Amelia instantly knew that something was terribly wrong when Lyle declared he'd had enough of Kip and was going to turn him over to the authorities. Her first indication that something was off came at the assertion of personally escorting Kip to the police station. It seemed to her that common sense would dictate that they call Plaza security and let them handle the situation if it was that dire. Perhaps, though, the most condemning piece of evidence that something was amiss was in the kiss he gave her prior to leaving.

To Kip it surely appeared deep and passionate, but to her it held disturbing insight into her husband's mental state. There was no positive emotion in the kiss- she could practically taste his desperation, anxiety, fear. Churning below that, she felt jealousy, rage, hurt, and… deep instability. She could not console him even slightly.

He pushed her away forcefully. Just before he turned away, she saw the intense sadness in his eyes that belied the cruel expression on his face. She feared for him and for Kip and for anyone else unfortunate enough to cross their path.

Whatever he was going to do with Kip, wherever he was going to take him- Lyle did not want her to be party to it. He sent her into the bedroom and, after removing the phone, jammed a chair under the door handle, locking her in. A brief scuffling occurred outside of the bedroom door as Kip protested his rough handling. A choked cry of pain was the last thing she heard before the exterior door clicked shut.

There was nothing she could do at point that except worry… and pray. She tested the door and discovered that she could get out if she really wanted to- the chair was not tightly secured. But she had nowhere to go once she was out and no clue where Lyle might actually be. The idea to report the entire to the police flitted across her mind, but she immediately discarded it. She was not going to anyone until she figured out exactly what was going on. However, it looked like that was going to take awhile. To prevent herself from going crazy with distress, Amelia began to search the bedroom for something that might clarify her memory. She had the sense that this situation or one like it had occurred before and that her husband's mood shifts were not uncommon. Ghostly images haunted her consciousness, always floating on the periphery of her psyche, just out of reach.

Her search was fruitless except for a pocketknife, which she slipped into her jeans pocket. Even though she wasn't quite certain what she might need it for, she felt it best to err on the side of caution. Just as she was about to give up, she spied Lyle's luggage beneath the bed. There was nothing unusual in the suitcase as she had packed most of the contents herself, but as she went to close the bag, the top slipped from her gasp and thumped against the floor, knocking loose a black velvet case that has been concealed within the interior pocket.

Curious, Amelia opened the heavy case. Inside lay three hypodermic needles filled with a tar-like substance. Slack-jawed she stared at the syringes.

_-Shadows tripped across the walls of the motel room. The only light in the place was from a dimly flickering fluorescent light in the bathroom. With each flicker of the light a broken glass syringe was illuminated. Water filtered into the living room from the bathroom. _

_In the bathroom, water poured over the edge of a grimy porcelain tub with a flow fed by the running facet. Strands of scarlet hair floated to the surface of the liquid that was contained in the bathtub. She lay completely submerged in frigid water.-_

A floodgate was instantly opened, flooding her with strange recollections.

_-The cell was tiny and disorganized; everything was covered in a fine layer of grim. Her gaze was drawn to the center of the room where the tub stood. Bizarrely, the basin struck a familiar chord within her. But confusion was thrown to the wayside when she saw him lying on the floor next to the bathtub.-_

In her mind the memory changed abruptly and she was in an old, dark corridor with her husband and two other people- Lyle's sister and a dark-haired man.

_-She leaned in close to him. "Bobby, please," she whispered in his ear. "Please stop provoking them."_

"_I'm not afraid of them any more." He turned his attention back to his sister and the Pretender. "Soooo…" he grinned at them. "We just gonna stare at each other or what?"_

_Mia stared at him disbelief._

_Is he crazy? What is he doing? _

_Jarod stepped slightly ahead of Parker once she lowered her weapon._

"_Like it or not, Lyle," he said advancing on the pair at the end of the corridor. "This is it."-_

Again the scene shifted and this time she was strapped into chair facing a disturbed looking old man.

_-"You're mad," she breathed with disgust._

_He smiled in amusement as he finished tightening the restraints. "That's what all mental patients say about their doctor now isn't, Amelia?" He put the gun down in favor of a black liquid-filled hypodermic needle. There was a deranged smile on his visage. "I am going to show you things, Amelia- Things that you don't know. Look at the syringe."_

_She looked at him blankly. "Why?"_

"_Do it!"_

_She looked. "So?"_

"_Focus on the Serum inside," he instructed. An eerie glow lit his eyes as he stared at the injection. "Do you know what you're looking at?"_

"_No," she responded sardonically, looking away._

"_Within this syringe," he went on, ignoring her attitude. "Is the capability to be anyone… to do anything…" Do you understand, Amelia?"_

_She remained silent, grounding her teeth together. There was something incredibly annoying in hearing her name repeated over and over._

"_It's not been perfected yet," he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "It's far from being perfect actually. It's limited in its capability to create alter egos, but the potential is there." He turned his hungry eyes on her. "Do you understand now?"-_

Snapping the case shut, she tossed it on the bed and went to the closet. An intense feeling of urgency overcame her and she knew that she had to find a way to Lyle. In the closet, she found a gray jacket and threw it on. After carefully securing the black case in the coat's interior pocket, Amelia turned her attention to the blocked door. It was fairly simple to jar the chair out from under the handle. As soon as she was out, she began an intensive search of the room, looking for any clue as to where her husband might be.

Time passed quickly- too quickly. Without warning, the knob of the exterior door began to turn. Lyle was back! She froze. Her mind frantically sought a plausible excuse for out of the bedroom. Nothing came to her and there was no time to run back to the bedroom. A stream of cursing followed the agitated rattling of the handle, then there was silence- he had forgotten his key. As she hurriedly returned to her room, she saw the key laying on the dining table. It wouldn't be long before he returned with another copy.

There was no way for her to replace the chair from the inside, but she was gambling that, in his disturbed state, he would not notice. She scrambled onto the bed, enveloping herself in the sheets and feigning sleep. Though the wall separating the rooms of suite muted her ability to perceive sound, she could hear the rustling and scuffling of movement in the other room but could not get a sense of what was going on. After a near eternity, the bedroom door cracked open. He entered the room and she could hear his steady breathing from somewhere above her. Gently, his fingers entwined in her hair and slowly ran down the length of the lock. She heard him mutter a jumbled apology for something and then he was gone.

Amelia sprang into action once the bedroom door closed again. Time was essential as each moment that passed allowed him to get further ahead of him. As soon as she heard the outer door click, something shifted within her psyche almost as though her body was operating independently of her mind. She forced the door open once more and was on top of the second door in a second. Cautiously, she opened the exterior door and examined the hall. It was empty. She grabbed the "Do Not Disturb" sign and hooked it on the outer handle as a precaution. Once on the outside, she caught one last look at the interior of the room. On the dining table sat a laptop computer connected to a video camera.

**

* * *

**

Apparitions skulked the streets hiding from the beams of the light that escaped from the betwixt the gangly fingers of the clouds that held the insipid moon hostage. He empathized with the captive satellite, knowing that he was about to suffer the same fate. A chill penetrated the air with a foreboding premonition of what was to come. Jarod shivered and pill his leather jacket closer to his body.

The East River Docks loomed ahead of him and he slowed his approach to a snail's pace to better study the trap he was about to enter. His mind sped through every possible scenario and calculated every probable outcome, searching for a satisfactory solution that would keep Kip unharmed and himself free.

_Five minutes until ten pm_. Jarod sigh heavily. He first had to face Lyle and determine his opponent's strength and weakness before arriving at a final answer.

_Three minutes until ten._ The Docks was not a restaurant of shop or a business- it was exactly what its name implied: waterfront of the East River. A ball of ice, cold and heavy, settled in his gut. He did not where on the docks he was suppose to meet Lyle. Cautiously and with great apprehension, he made his way to the center of the dockyard.

_Ten o'clock_. An eerie air swathed him from head to toe. His fingertips tingled from a heightened sense of awareness. He was determined not to be caught off-caught. There might be a chance that he could gain the upper hand.

_Ten o' one, ten 'o two, ten 'three_… The minutes past ten o'clock ticked by. The depth of silence increased with each passing second. The fishy aroma that wafted up from the water and wrapped around him, embedding itself in every fabric of his clothing. He inhaled deeply, not noticing the stench of the water, trying to clear his mind, but his psyche was too manic to be cleared.

Lyle had not shown. Something was wrong.

Jarod turned his back to the water and scanned the surrounding docks for something suspicious.

_Where is Lyle?_

_Ten o' ten_. No sweepers, no Centre choppers. Nothing; the night was dead. He didn't trust nothing.

_Ten fourteen_. The sound of a distant motor running made his stomach plummeted as he whirled around to face the disturbance. In that instant, something solid and weighty struck him in the back of the head.

_Ten fifteen_. The Pretender slumped to the floor of the port.

* * *

The entire world was dark, watery, and resembled the interior of a small garage. 

His head throbbed mercilessly, screaming outrage at him for the recent abuse it had sustained. He tried to tell his body that he was not the one to blame, but his body refused to listen and continued toassault him.

He blinked several time trying to either clear the water from his eyes or to better see through it. He was feeling light-headedand that further hindered his sight. A burning sensation in his lungs informed him that he needed to breathe and the impending threat of drowning invaded his mind as he struggled to worm his way above the water's surface. However, he was chained to impossibly heavy chair or so it seemed. Finally, biological need overtook psychological will and he was forced to inhale through his nose. Shockingly, it was air that filled his lungs not water.

The darkness that pervaded the room was thick, making it difficult to see what was in the room with him. One thing that was in the area was a pungent, acrid odor that burned his nose and stung his eyes. It was so vile that it forced him to ingest oxygen through his mouth. His lungs screamed but an immovable substance blocked his lips. He had no choice but to inhale the putrid atmosphere through the only passageway that was not blocked.

Panic exploded over him in a series of rapid-fire shots. In terror his eyes darted frantically about the room searching for some sort of explanation for this calamity. Across the room form him was mirror, or so it appeared, for he saw a masculine shape bound to a chair. The silhouette was familiar, but not his. Suddenly, the figure's head jerked slightly as consciousness tried to return.

He watched with the figure with macabre interest. His gaze drifted down the length of the reflection trying to determine whom the profile belonged to. At the figure's shackled feet lay a car battery. Cables ran from the battery and into the shadows. With an intense frown he looked back at the face of the figure and the once obscured visage became clear…

Jarod!

* * *

"Wake up, sweet prince…" 

He wrapped his fingers in the unconscious man's dampened hair and brutally jerked it backwards at an excruciating angle. He smiled delightedly, knowing what a terrible surprise it would be for Jarod to wake up and see him.

He had always loathed the Pretender.

"Well. Well. Well." He clipped spitefully. A maelstrom of detrimental emotion swirled within him, digging in and entrenching itself into his already frayed sanity. "The Golden Boy awakens."

He watched Jarod's lips curl back in a fierce snarl. He had not gagged the Pretender as he had the boy; he wanted the man to argue and fight him. That way, destroying him would be more satisfying.

"Where's Kip?"

A baleful laugh gurgle up and escaped from him as the shackled man tried to assert authority he did not have. Genially, Lyle stepped to the side to allow Jarod view of the bleary-eyed youth. His smile broadened at the dismay that swathed both of their faces.

Jarod glared hatefully up at him. "You've got me, Lyle," he spat angrily. "Let him go."

Lyle pretended to consider the statement before almost gleefully responding, "No."

"We had a deal," he argued. Defeat tainted his words- he knew there was never a deal.

"Yes, yes, I suppose, in manner of speaking, we did. You see I simply haven't decided yet if adhering to that is most beneficial to me." He winked devilishly at Jarod. "I'm sure you figured out long ago that if I let our young wannabe-hero go, he could still go poking his nose where it doesn't belong. Worse still is that he could go to the authorities." He leaned in close to his captive, the tone of his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "We both know what would happen if the police ever became involved in Centre business."

Lyle tipped his head to the side studying the still woozy Pretender with a pensive smirk. The way the man glared so venomously at him stuck him as hilarious given the situation and he did not attempt to hide his amusement.

Jarod lifted his chin,the physical agony evident in his eyes. "Where's Mia?" he demanded. "What have you done to her?"

Lyles'ssmile broadened, but he felt ill at ease with the questions. "Asleep," he said and did not expound.

"So how'd you do it, Lyle?" the Pretender's voice regained its strength and anger. "Did you do to her what you did to the others?"

His face darkened in confusion- he did not comprehend what was being implied. What others? In a moment's clarity he understood and his expression blackened into rage.

"I _didn't_ do anything to her, genius," he grounded out bitterly, feeling defensive. "She is asleep. It's been a long weekend and she was tired."

"I'm sure she is tired," For the first time the corners of Jarod's mouth turned up. A subtle jeer edged his words. "Tired of you. I saw her grandmother today. She was awfully protective of you. Tell me, Lyle, what is it you're using to control them with? What terror tactic are you using on Mia?"

"Shut up," he hissed vituperatively. His ears were engulfed in belittling clamor. The muscles in his jaw twitched as they forced his lower teeth painfully intohis upper ones. His hands clenched into fists, aching to lash out and strike something. "I'm not- nothing... she's with me by choice."

The Pretender seized the opportunity towound his enemyand struck Lyle quick and hard in the heart. "Do you think she would actually tell you differently? Of course not! She's afraid of you, Lyle. That's the only reason why she stays with you- she's _afraid_!"

_We told you so, we told you so! _The voices cackled mercilessly. _We told you she doesn't really love you. We told you that you scared her! Hehehehe…Monster!_

"Shut up!" he cried out in almost a yelp. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Each cry was more fraught than the last. He doubled over as though in pain and clamped his hands over his ears. Then suddenly, a switch was flipped and he straightened up with a wild, unhinged gleam in his eyes. He locked onto the Pretender with a spite-filled visage. Ignoring the jumper cables at his feet, he reached for the crowbar that stood propped against the near wall. He circled Jarod, continually muttering "shut up". Once behind the other man, Lyle raised the bar and, with all his quickly fleeting strength, slammed it into Jarod's bound hands.

* * *

"_It was not, she knew, that night had come, but something as dark as night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come, but it had sent that shiver through the sea to say that it was coming. What was it?_

_...They gathered round him, all eyes averted from the thing that was coming aboard. They had no thought of fighting it. It was Fate. _

_Only when Hook was hidden from them did curiosity loosen the limbs of the boys so that they could rush to the ship's side to see the crocodile climbing it. Then they got the strangest surprise of the Night of Nights; for it was no crocodile that was coming to their aid. It was Peter..." -Peter Pan by Sir J.M. Barrie_

* * *

A violent rush of air expelled between the teeth of the man who had been so viciously hit. 

_Why? Why? Why?_

A vestige moved in the shadows above them, lurking in the gloom: watching, listening, waiting….

_Why? Why? Why?_

"Now how are you going to save yourself?" The one holding the crowbar hissed. He pulled the weapon back, preparing to strike again. He paused with a look of fury upon his jaded features. The crowbar then clanged harmlessly at his feet.

From the rafter's vantage point, it could be clearly seen that all of the damage that had been intended had not actually been inflicted upon the bound man's hands. The metal instrument had slammed into hastily balled fists and not limp fingers, thus partially protecting the phalanges from extensive injury. The bulk of the damage had been done to the thumb of the left hand, which was smashed, bleeding, and broken- unusable.

_Who is he? Who is he? Who is he?_

_He is Jarod, _her memory answered and then was silent. It did not know more than that.

Lyle paced the limited floor space restively- overwrought and beleaguered by disembodied voices that gave him no repose.

Images from vague recollections played in her mind's eye, gaining strength and clarity with each frame that passed.

_She knelt in front of him, watching him assiduously. There was something wrong- he had not collapsed from being out of shape or anything of that nature, but from something much worse. He seemed to be in such agony. He held his head between his hands as though his head would fall apart if he did not. He rocked back and forth like a child in fear, his back slapping the hard brick wall behind him with each rock. His mouth twisted in anguish- she could hear his teeth grinding together…_

_"Bobby."_

_She saw surprise register in his eyes and she was surprised that he that he thought she'd left him. It greatly disturbed her to see him in such grief, but her experience with things of this nature was so limited that she didn't know quite what to do. Almost unconsciously she reached out for his left hand and pulled it away from his face. She wiggled her nose thoughtfully; she wasn't sure why she always took his left hand. Perhaps it was the way he always kept it in his pocket, hidden away from prying eyes. She could only imagine the insensitive reactions the sight of his hand must spark. She sighed miserably. Things couldn't get much worse for either of them._

_She hated this place… that was about the only thing that she was sure of. She absolutely despised the Centre and everything associated with it._

"_Get out," he said despondently. "I don't want you here."_

_She frowned at the change in his demeanor and it reminded her of something… Her memory suddenly jarred and she saw herself with her mother. Her mother had the same glazed-over look in her eyes and what she was saying made no sense; her movements became sporadic and her mood swung drastically between extreme highs and lows- all symptoms of a psychotic episode beginning._

_She glanced worriedly at him. He tightened his grip on her hand as much as he could all while telling her to leave him alone. She had no intention of leaving, but she thought if she gave him some space it would help. As she stood, his mood changed…_

_It's happening again! _But she did not know what "it" was, only that "it" was happening again.

"Let the boy go." The words that fell from Jarod's lips were difficult to hear. She leaned as far forward as she dared, but he was positioned at such an angle that she could not see his face.

Lyle mulled over the idea with a grim scowl. He turned his back to the Pretender and glared murderously at the quivering youth before him. The scowl deepened.

"Fine," he said abruptly, dropping his hands to his side. His mood alleviated inexplicably. With a casual air, he freed Kip from his shackles and retreated to a far corner of the shed.

Thoroughly confounded, Kip was frozen to the chair from which he had been released; he appeared to be on the brink of passing out. His unfocused eyes found Jarod, who directed him to leave with a crisp nod of his head. Shakily, he obeyed and staggered to his feet.

There was no way either of them could have seen what was coming next, but from her position she saw it all. With the swiftness and agility of a cat, Lyle was on the boy and crashing a long, splintered shaft of lumber into his upper back. Kip fell hard onto his knees. He wasn't given a chance to recuperate- the blows fell fast and hard- and he could not cry out as the tape gag had never been removed.

Once the youth had been sufficiently incapacitated, Lyle dropped his weapon and stood over the boy.

"Let's see you be the hero now," he sneered grotesquely. Without another glance at Kip, he refocused all his anger back on Jarod.

_Why? Why? Why? _

_Why is this happening? _Her mind could not make sense of anything. _Who is Jarod? Who is Kip? Who is... Lyle? _Her body trembled with a vertigo that was not induced by her high seat.

_The Centre..._

It was the only reoccurring theme she had picked up on. Everything returned to the Centre.

_The Centre..._

Tearing her eyes away from the scene below her, she began to search for a way down to their level.

* * *

_I'm in the Twilight Zone, _he thought. _I have to be... it's the only explanation that makes any sense. The Twilight Zone..._

A cough vitriolically reminded him that whatever reality he was trapped in, he had still been rancorously maltreated for reasons he had long ago stopped trying to understand. Numb, both physically and mentally, Kip rolled onto his back, inhaled a sharp breath, and looked around at his surroundings.

His captor circled Jarod with sanguineous derangement, spewing a rambling tirade against the fettered man. Keeping his eyes on the two men, Kip very cageyly raised himself up into a sitting position. Even more warily, he turned his body to face the others.

Neither men paid any attention to him. The more Kip moved the more he discovered that, despite the pain and superficial injuries, he was not terribly damaged. He rose to his feet without drawing the slightest amount of attention to himself- the other two were engaged in a abysmally inflamed shouting match.

At this point, Kip understood that he faced a serious dilemma. He could not, under any circumstances, leave Jarod behind, and yet he was not certain that he could take Lyle on in his weakened state. Reinforcement, preferably from the police, would have been best, but Kip worried that even if he could get away to alert the authorities, Jarod would not survive until he returned.

A small glint of light reflecting off a metallic object in a corner caught his attention. The crowbar that had earlier been used break Jarod's hands, lay discarded on the floor nearby. Kip took a step back, enveloping himself in darkness.

He was afraid- afraid of Lyle, afraid to move too soon, and afraid to move too late. He was afraid that somehow Lyle would smell that fear and come after him. Luck, however, seemed to favor him for once, and as Lyle bent down to seize the jumper cables he turned his back completely to Kip. As quickly as his body and nerves would allow, Kip snatched the metal tool stealthily. Lyle was standing once more and advancing on Jarod as Kip raised the bar and advanced on Lyle. Like a baseball player gearing up to connect with a ball for a home run, Kip prepared to swing the crowbar. Just before the moment of impact, a young feminine voice cried out a warning to Lyle, who barely managed to duck the blow. Rattled by the exclamation, Kip lost his grip on the tool.

* * *

**_I've been watching you from a distance… The distance sees through your disguise… _**

Chaos took control of the situation as the crowbar struck a shelve full of various tools and chemical bottles. The ear-splitting cacophony of metal slamming the concrete and shattering of various bottles fully disarmed the men. A pungent, sallow gas filled the contained area as various chemicals combined into noxious fumes.

There was little time to properly assess the situation. There was no possible way the rapidly spreading gases were not harmful. A quick inventory told her that Kip was the most capable of getting out the building, if only he would wake up and do so, and Jarod only needed to be released from his chains. Lyle, however, was the most affected by the exhaust as the chemic pooled under his feet. He was immobilized where he stood, either incapable of or simply not moving.

**_  
All I want from you is your hurting… I want to heal you… I want to save you from the dark…_**

Once the assessment was completed, her mind seemed to step aside and let her body take over in managing the crisis.

Her hands constructed a makeshift gasmask by wrapping her Rapunzel-like locks over her mouth and nose twice and tucking the ends into the collar of her shirt. Then her legs carried her into the bedlam.

As her hands busied themselves with releasing Jarod, her mind was free to think of whatever it chose to. Amelia sensed that this was abnormal; she had heard of people doing extraordinary things in times of crisis, but with no body/mind connection? Was such a thing possible?

Even with freedom, Jarod was slow to move and Amelia recognized that the fumes must be affecting him. She struggled to pull him out of the chair and shove him out of the door. On the difficult journey to the exit, they passed close to Kip, who was only just beginning to come out of his stupor. She snagged him by the arm and the little girl attempted to steer two men twice her size into the safety of the night.

**_Give unto me your troubles… I'll endure your suffering… Place onto me your burden… I'll drink your deadly poison… _**

The moment they were outside, she abandoned them and went back in for the most important person.

Catatonia was the only way to describe the state he was in. He would not or could not respond to her. All her attempts to educe some sort of reaction were fruitless. Finally, she tried to move him on her own- a nearly impossible task. She managed to tug at him hard enough to pull him out of the chemical spill. Her efforts landed them both on the floor.

She grunted in extreme frustration. Her strength and energy were quickly depleting and the door was still a long distance away. To make matters worse, her hair was unraveling and allowing the fumes into her lungs, choking the air out of them.

With silent prays, she managed to get them a few feet closer to the exit, but it still wasn't enough. She simply could not drag him any further without some help from Lyle himself.

"Bobby!" she cried abjectly, using what little precious oxygen she had left to appeal to him. "Please, help me. I can't do this alone!"

Her words, at first, did not seem to have much effect on him. But slowly he began to come around enough to be of some aid. She still had to shoulder the brunt of the work as he moved so heavily and sluggishly, but at least some of the weight had been eased.

The door was at last within in reach. Amelia nearly collapsed with relief when she pulled him out into the open. But they were not as free as she thought. The moment she released Lyle and let him sink to the ground, someone grabbed her from behind.

Mind and body, which, until that instant, had been reconnecting, quickly separated themselves again. Body sprang into motion and flipped the offender over her shoulder. Crouched defensively and ready to kill if necessary, Amelia found herself staring into the bewildered eyes of Kip.

She spat at him in Italian.

"What'dya do that for?" Kip wheezed. He grimaced from the additional injury that his person had sustained.

"I could ask you the same thing!" she snapped, gnashing her teeth at him. "What is wrong with you?"

Unable to pull himself up, Kip remained flat on his back as he attempted to explain. "I was trying to save you."

She glared at him in annoyance. "Save me from what?" she scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You were the one who had to be saved."

The young man sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was just trying to help."

"Well, stop trying," she scolded, clearly irate with him as well as the situation. "All you've done is made things worse! This whole mess is your fault!"

Having no sympathy for the prone man, she stepped over him to reach her husband. Lyle, however, was nowhere in sight.

Jarod stood a few feet away from her with his dark gaze locked onto to something. Judging from his glare and the predatory air of his gait, she surmised that he was locked onto Lyle. Shadowing the Pretender's movement, she eventually saw what he saw- Lyle propped up against the side of garbage bin, addlepated and drained. Unsure of what the man intended to do and unable to wait to see, Amelia sprang in front of Jarod, forcing him to check up.

**_Why should I care if they hurt you? Somehow it matters more to me than if I were hurting myself … I'll save you… _**

At first neither said a word, they simply stared at each; Jarod's curious, concerned gaze against her defensive, agitated one.

"Mia." Her name was exhaled in a whisper and she frowned.

"Look," she said tightly, "I don't know what's going on, but I suggest that you take your friend and get out of here."

He blenched a bit and puzzlement crept into his features. "Mia," he said again as though the sound of his voice would remind her of their association.

She reacted to his advancing on her; though benignant enough, she still whipped out the pocket knife and flicked the blade at him.

"Leave us alone."

Baffled, Jarod obeyed her warning and backed up a step.

"Mia, it's Jarod." Even as he said it, he knew she did not know him. Not even a hint of recognition registered in her eyes.

"Leave," she reiterated. "Please." In her periphery vision she saw the damage his hands had sustained and it troubled her greatly. "You really ought to see a doctor."

His gentle eyes stared at her steadily and she instinctively knew him to be a good person, yet she could not risk trusting him for the only memory she had of him was as Jarod, the man who had been in the hall with her sister-in-law, Parker.

"Yes," Jarod avowed, and took another step back. He began to turn away, then paused. "Will you be alright?"

She nodded and frowned, still watching his hands. "I'm sorry," she said in a rush.

He smiled sadly. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"For failing you."

"What?"

Jarod said no more. He turned and walked back to Kip, who had finally careened to his feet. Amelia watched the men disappear into the darkness, before turning to her husband.

"Bobby?" she called softly, kneeling beside him. She reached into her jacket and pulled out the black case.

His head turned in the direction of her voice, but his eyes could not focus on her face.

"Baby?" She held his face in her free hand trying to hold his focus. "Bobby? Do you need this?"

The case was inched in front of his face but it might have well been miles away- he reached for it but could not come close to grasping it.

"Do you need this?"

Finally, he managed to nod affirmatively. His hand fell to his thigh.

She coughed brusquely, still trying to expel the fumes from her lungs. Her fingers shook from both the coughing and from anxiety as she took a hypodermic needle from the case and prepped it for injecting.

His eyes had closed again, enervation permeating his being. She sighed heavily, running her thumb over his chapped lips. She leaned her forehead against his momentarily as she gathered her courage; she had never been particularly fond of needles. As quickly and mercifully as possible, she tried to injected the liquid into his veins; if it pained him any, he did not react. Once it was done with, she discarded the syringe in the dumpster, closed the casing, and put it back in her coat. Finally, she settled against him, waiting... for what- she didn't know...

**_Give unto me all that frightens you… I'll have your nightmares for you if you sleep soundly …_**

_**

* * *

**_

_**Spoilers of sorts:**_

_- Lyle's control over Sydney may be the result of a bluff. _

_-A confrontation between the Parker twins leads to one of them being physically assaulted._

_-Lyle's marriage may not be real. _

_-Amelia's position as the object of Lyle's affection is in jeopardy courtesy of Raines' new Oriental bodyguard. _

_-The chain-of-power within the Centre is turned upside as the investigation into Mutumbo's murder continues._

_-Another assassination within the Centre brings things inside the corporation to a grinding halt._

_-And one of the current Centre Projects commissioned by Raines may be the Parker family's undoing._

_-Jarod's attempt to reconcile with Parker is thwarted by Zoë, which leads the Pretender to choose between the two women. _


	14. Troubling Discoveries

_AN: Well, I'm very glad to see that everyone enjoyed the little confrontation between the men. With that over and done with, we'll be heading deep into the heart of this new monster. Not only will the central characters uncover a series of strange happenings occurring in the Centre that will demand their attention, equally unsettling events in their personal lives will have to be dealt with. _

_**Imag1ne: **We'll find out soon enough if Kip's been shaken awake or, at the very least, driven into therapy. ;)_

_**LJP:** Mia will certainly get an up close and personal study of each of Lyle's face, that's for sure; including insight into those rather disturbing secrets that Miss Parker and company have uncovered/will uncover. _

_**NYT:** Thank you so much for such a high compliment. It means a lot to me coming from a teacher! I did consider teaching high school English, but I'm just not suited to deal with kids that age... I'm in my element when surrounded by little kids. Lol. _

_**koolcaz:** Those spoilers are going to start coming up very soon... :) _

_**Gemini:** At this point, the only thing that can drive Mia away is Lyle himself. That being said, there is no guarantee that he won't end up doing just that. And don't forget what happened to Lyle's first wife... ;)_

_Happy Thanksgiving!_

_Lyrics by Sarah Brightman_

* * *

**Chapter 12: Troubling Discoveries**

'_Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." - Germaine Greer_

* * *

Everything was back to normal or so he tried to pretend. His physical wounds, though still tender and sore, were healing on their own. There was, however, the troubling questions that still nagged at his mind about the whole series of events that had lead to his injuries. Jarod had been of no help clarifying anything; the man's best advice had been to forget the whole incident and not to so readily trust strangers or chase after girls he knew nothing about. 

Kip sighed, resigned to the fact that he would never understand what had happened or ever see Amelia again. In a way, he was relieved as he now realized he much preferred his drama on the stage where it belonged and not in his personal life. On the other hand, he grieved the loss of his dream girl knowing he would never meet another like her.

The wind kicked up and Kip quickened his pace. Darting across the street, he made his way down to the subway. The station was crowded as it always was and getting lost in the throng was simple as was being misdirected. He let out a heavy sigh and got on the first train that came by without noticing where it was bound.

Collapsing wearily into a recently vacated seat, Kip massaged his aching jaw. His body still felt as though it had been run through a ringer- he couldn't wait to get home and sink into pain-free sleep. On the other hand, his sleep as of late had hardly been restful; he was often arrested by macabre incubus which left him exhausted and sweat soaked. In every nightmare the same electric, malevolent blue eyes and thumbless hand stalked him after he succumbed to the allurement of Amelia.

Though a part of him ached at the thought of never beholding her image again, he unequivocally never wanted to see her again, for to see her again would be to see_ him_ again. Kip shuddered inwardly and he suddenly recalled a lecture from his classical mythology course. It struck him that Amelia could be likened to Persephone who was kidnaped by Hades and taken to his underworld and made queen of the dead.

In an attempt to pry his thoughts from the morbid, Kip turned to people watching until his stop. Several minutes later, the train lurched to a halt. Pushed forward by the current of the crowd, Kip struggled to maneuver his way out while avoiding those coming in. Despite his valiant effort, he ended up slamming into someone just outside of the train.

"Hey, man," he said quickly, stooping to help the person retrieve his belongings from the ground before they snatched up by some opportunist. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No problem," was the nonchalant, heavy Brooklyn-accented reply.

As Kip went to reclaim the man's dropped wallet, he saw that it had fallen open. In the clear plastic inserts alongside various cards, _she_ stared up at him with her stormy gray eyes.

Ashen, Kip stared up at the man whose black hair fell into those same gray eyes. Backing away from the other as though he were a dangerous snake, his stomach churned with vile.

Forgoing any further subway travels, Kip turned and ran, leaving the befuddled young man behind. He continued running until he was back in the safety of his own housing.

* * *

_**Stuck inside this room, digging in my heels the paint is stuck on the walls, but it's starting to peel... **_

It was as though everything that occurred in New York City had not. Whenever she attempted to discuss, Kip or Jarod or anything at all, he would look at her like she was delusional and comment that the sooner she saw Sydney the better. It was unbelievably frustrating; Amelia felt she could get more dialogue out of a horse.

She flipped absently through the channels on the television in the living room. Her attention kept wandering to the Asian decor that accented the room. She hated it; there was no explanation for harboring such strong feeling against harmless decorations, the sentiments simply existed. And they followed her throughout the apartment; there was no escape from it- the entire interior design of the place consisted of ornaments from the Orient. She would have liked nothing more than to shatter the grinning Buddha that sat atop the TV into dust and dispose of the remains in the fireplace. It was only out of respect for her husband that she left the infuriating object where it was.

Lyle came in sometime later and disappeared without saying anything to her. She sighed pettishly and glared at the television. Her channel-surfing halted on an episode of "Divorce Court" where a woman was complaining about a lack of communication from her husband, among other strange oddities, and Amelia found herself sympathizing with the her. Lyle never wanted to talk to her about anything at all, not even the most trivial of things. On rare occasions, he would allow her a glimpse into his tormented soul, but would soon after shut down completely. She often felt that he resented her because she could not remember details about him or their life together and that he even blamed her for her amnesia. There was no way she could know if her feeling were accurate or not- asking him was pointless. With a jab at the remote, she flipped away from the program.

**_But maybe it's your vanity, maybe it's your skin... Well, I'm thinking, I'm thinking your cover's wearing thin..._**

When Lyle returned from his office near the bedroom, he confiscated the remote from her and turned the televison off.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked shortly.

She blew her bangs out of her eyes with an aggressive puff. "Yes."

"And what are the things you are _not_ discuss in your session?"

"Jarod, Kip, New York," she checked off the list with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes. "My visits to Cox and us."

"Specifically," he demanded. "What about us?"

"That we're married."

"Good girl," he smiled tightly, patting her knee as one would pet a dog that had successfully performed a trick. "Now give me your rings."

"What?" she gawked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me."

He looked at her sharply. There was no humor in his features. "You heard me- give me the rings."

_**Cause everybody wants a piece of you... You don't give much, but when you do you're nobody's friend; you're nobody's fool... Tell me- it must be tough to be that cool ..**_

Stubbornly, she folded her arms over her chest, hiding her left hand from him. "No," she told him defiantly. "Not until you tell me why."

The muscles of his jaw tightened; he was clearly at the end of his patience. "Fine," he ground out. "Don't you think Sydney might ask you about the rings? If you're married? And if you can't talk about us, then what are you going to tell him?"

"Fine," she harrumphed unhappily, sliding the precious metal off of her finger. She glanced at him uncertainly. "Will I get them back?"

Lyle looked at her blankly. "Why wouldn't you?"

She shrugged despondently and mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"What?" he frowned and leaned forward. "I didn't hear you." He paused, then added. "And speak English."

"I said," she over enunciated the words. "That you don't ever want anything to do with me."

The remark took him momentarily aback. "That's not true," he snapped defensively and pulled away from her. "Why would we have gotten married if it was, huh?"

"I wouldn't know," she barked irritably. "I haven't a clue why we got married."

**_Another notch on your belt, another new pair of shoes, another sidewalk show- where did you get that suit?  
Did you think I was waiting or were you just testing me? _**

Tension swelled, driving the wedge deep between them. Finally, Amelia could no longer contain what had been troubling her for so long.

"Are you still in love with her?"

Nothing else she could have said could have left him as dumbfounded as that did. He felt like he'd been hit with a wrecking ball.

"Who?" He struggled to make sense of her accusation.

"Her... your first wife."

He was too thunderstruck with the bizarre turn the conversation had taken to think clearly. "Wha.. Who- you mean Shei Ling?"

She nodded.

Lyle threw his hands up in disgust and flopped against the back of the couch. "Oh, sure- _that _you remember!"

"Well, are you?"

"No!" he responded emphatically, though still a bit bewildered. "Of course not. Stop being ridiculous."

She was silent for a moment. "You were though."

His confoundment turned to anger. "Look," he hissed barbarously. "I've told you all about Shei Ling once before- every last sickening detail. If you're so desperate to know about my feeling towards her then you'd better get your memory back quick because I am not going to relive that again!"

**_You're gonna come up empty, come out angry, come out alone... Well, I should be more forgiving- there's a soul down there... I can hear it crying, but I can't find it anywhere..._**

Silence returned. She bit her bottom lip savagely, trying hold back tears.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked out.

After a glance at her remorseful face, he softened slightly and reached for her hand. "Believe me when I say I never think about Shei Ling." He ran a finger under her jaw and tilted her chin up so that she had to look him in the eyes. "Never."

She nodded slightly.

"And I promise that you'll get your rings back."

**_It must be tough to be that cool_**...

* * *

She sat on the edge of her seat with rigid posture; she had not relaxed even slightly since she arrived, though she claimed to be perfectly at ease. Worry lined her young face making her look fifteen years older than she was and dark circles under her pale gray eyes added to the aged look. Every so often her thin, trembling right hand lifted to her forehead and massaged her temple before drifting back to her left hand and absently toying with her ring finger, following the tan lines that encircled the digit. 

Sydney quietly watched this behavior with interest, noting that it never ceased, not even with the most benign of questions. "Amelia?"

"Wha-" she glanced up suddenly as though he had startled her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor. What did you ask?"

"I just asked if there was anything else you remember. Anything at all."

"No, I-" her faced scrunched up in a pensive frown. Her gaze transfixed on a distant spot as her eyes moved back and forth as though reading unseen print. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he soothed. "It's all right if you don't remember anything else."

"Well, maybe I-" her voice fell off as the frown on her face deepened.

That was her typical response to his questions. Initially, he had asked her just to talk about anything she wished to, but that request seemed to put tremendous stress on her, as she seemed uncertain of what he expected of her. To help her along, he asked simple questions which turned out to be equally nerve-racking for her and revealed an inconsistent pattern in her answers. On basic topics such as family, Amelia responded confidently on what she remembered after careful thought. On other topics, however, such as Lyle, the responses were vague and clearly scripted. He believed she was truly suffering from severe memory loss, but he also believed that there were things she did remember but had been instructed not to reveal.

_Why? What purpose would that serve? _He wondered litigiously. Lyle had come to him for help and then coached Amelia on what to say? Why? It made no sense.

Another quandary that was presented to him was the amnesia itself. The original bouts of fugue that Amelia suffered when he first met her were induced by the Serum activated sub-personality. Once Jarod's Antidote had been administered that problem was remedied by all reports. Sydney found it difficult to believe that Jarod's counterpoison had failed; it was a concept his mind could not wrap itself around. The only other possible explanation was that something was interfering with the antidote's ability to work.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said finally in a thin voice. "I really am." She paused and for the first time held eye contact with him. "There's just nothing else I can say."

Sydney got the impression the that there was a double meaning to the apology. "That all right, Amelia," he assured her with a warm smile. "Don't force any recollection; let them come naturally."

She nodded distractedly, still rubbing her left ring finger.

His smile tightened a bit as he hid his concern behind it. "I think we'll end things here for today. Get some rest and try not to worry too much about this."

She gave him a frail smile as a frown flickered across her features.

Sydney stepped outside his office to meet an restive, impatient Lyle. The younger man shot him a critical look as walked up to him sans Amelia.

"Well?" Lyle snapped expectantly.

He crossed his arms over chest, immediately put-off by the other man' abrasive attitude. Intently, he studied Lyle wondering what secrets he was hiding.

"Well!" Lyle's patience was wearing thin. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing," was the cool reply.

Lyle brow lifted in suspicion. "Nothing?" Sarcasm bled through the word. "Why not?'

"I was hoping you would answer that question," Sydney responded levelly, taking note of Lyle's reactions.

"Excuse me?" There was a dangerous edge to the younger man's voice.

"I don't know why you are surprised, Lyle," Sydney told him out right. He knew he had to choose his words carefully; he did not want to risk his son's life by letting his choler with Lyle get the best of him. "It's clear that you told her not to discuss certain things that she remembers. How do you expect me to get to the bottom of this when I don't even know what she does remember?"

Lyle inhaled deeply as he mulled over the conundrum "I can't trust you," he stated flatly.

Sydney curbed the urge to roll his eyes. "Then why did you come to me in the first place, Lyle?" He demanded in exasperation as ire rose in his tone. "Why?" At the dark look that welled in Lyle's glare, he pause to collect himself. "You were right," he said, attempting to reason with an unreasonable man. "Jarod's antidote isn't working the way it was designed to. It's possible that something is interfering with it."

"And?"

"And if Amelia or you know what might be causing the interference withholding that information is poor judgement if you expect me to help her."

"Do I detect a threat in that statement, Doctor?" he smile scornfully.

Sydney glared at him. "It you won't work with me then there is no point in continuing these sessions.

As he turned away, Lyle caught him in a death grip by the upper arm. "Don't forget about dear Nicholas," he hissed virulently. "If you want him back...alive, then you'd better remember your place and do everything you can to fix this!"

With a firm tug, the doctor pulled out of the man's grasp. "All right," he avowed, defeated.

He watched Lyle lead Amelia off and sighed wearily. His thoughts were not on the situation or Amelia; they were on his son.

_**

* * *

Broots had to jog to keep up with his boss. Parker was dead set on finding out what Sydney was hiding from them- from her- and strode down the hall at pace that would have rivaled a Kenyan runner's. **_

It wasn't that Broots was not curious about his colleague's new project; he just didn't think it was any of their business. However, Parker thought otherwise primarily because without Sydney's help their search for Jarod was dead in the water. Sydney's unofficial withdrawal from the Pretender Retrieval was troublesome to Broots as was Lyle's apparent involvement it and he certainly wanted to help Sydney if he was trouble, as Parker suggested. He simply hadn't seen anything that implied their friend was in trouble and he did not want to create trouble, which he felt confident was what their investigation would cause.

On a collision course with Parker was none other than her brother. Both siblings were headed for each other at the same rapid, impatient gait with their brows furrowed and their eyes set on their respective goals; it was the same look on different faces and it gave away their relationship to one another.

By the time Broots noticed the approaching twins and called a warning to Parker, it was too late. The siblings had already slammed into each other and looked prepared to go to war. Broots cringed as the onslaught of anger exploded from the them upon impact- the same words ripping from different voices. It struck Broots as amusing how they were as similar as they were different. However, Broots valued his life and was not about to share this tidbit with anyone, except perhaps Sydney.

While the two continued to make a spectacle of themselves, Broots glanced around to see who was watching them and saw Sydney disappearing around a corner without so much as glancing at the feuding twins.

"Hey, Syd!" the technician called and without thinking, stepped around Parker and Lyle.

The hallway became disastrously still.

Broots became aware that two pairs of icy blue eyes were staring at him. He turned at looked at them. Feeling that an explanation was in order, he offered, "I just thought of something funny I wanted to tell Sydney."

Lyle glared at him and Parker glared at Lyle. A moment later, they glared at each other; Parker push past Lyle in the same instant he pushed past her. With a final shove, Lyle departed and Parker caught up with Sydney.

"What's so funny, Chuckles?" Parker snapped at Broots as she blocked the doctor's path of escape.

"Um," Broots floundered briefly; he wasn't about to mention his observation to her as he knew she would find it anything but humourous. "It really wasn't that funny."

Parker rolled her eyes and turned her focus onto Sydney.

"Hey, Syd," she cooed through a false smile. "How've you been lately?"

"Just fine, Miss Parker," he answered warily. He glanced quizzically at Broots who avoided looking at him. "If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"I'll bet you do." Surprisingly, she let him go without further ado.

Broots hurried after Parker as she took off again. "Why didn't you ask Sydney anything?" he wondered aloud.

"Because I don't have that kind of time to waste," she said, pulling him into her office.

Once inside the room, Parker locked the door and pointed to her desk where Broots' computer was set up.

"Sit," she instructed.

Broots sat down and booted up the data processor with a distressed look on his face. Parker shot him an annoyed look as she stood behind him.

"You looked like you just swallowed a bug," she said flatly. "What's wrong?"

Broots' frown deepened. "I just don't like this, Miss Parker," he told her. "It's not right going into Sydney's records like this."

Parker's brow raised.

"It's an invasion of privacy," Guilt pushed him to continue. "It's... it's unethical!"

"Yeah, and keeping secrets isn't very nice either," she huffed, leaning over his shoulder. "Now search."

Muttering to himself, Broots did as he was told. The ringing of the phone took her attention off of his maundering.

Parker snatched the phone off of her desk with an nettled expression. "What is it, Jarod?" she snapped into the receiver.

'Why, Miss Parker," the Pretender's smooth voice flooded the earpiece, "How did you know?"

"You were about due to annoy me," she answered, poking Broots to speed up his search. "Besides, my ulcer flares every time you call."

"I'm flattered."

She gritted her teeth against the smile in his voice. "Don't be," she snarled. "What do you want?"

"I'm curious," his voice darkened as he got down to business, "how is your brother doing?"

"Why don't you call and ask him? I bet he'd love to hear from you. Maybe you two could arrange to meet somewhere and chat over coffee."

"Yes, well, we've already had that chat," he said. "Just a few days ago actually."

"What?" Parker frowned, trying to catch anything that might prove he was teasing her. "What do you mean you met Lyle?"

"We met in New York through two mutual friends," he said grimly. "In fact, you know one of them."

Certain that he was being serious, Parker took the bait. "Who?"

"Amelia."

"You mean-" she paused as she processed the information. "I thought that was all over."

"So did I."

Parker was unusually quiet as the Pretender filled her in on his recent run-in with Lyle.

"Parker?" he asked uncertain if she was still on the line.

"I'm here."

"How's Sydney?" he ventured when she said nothing else.

"Good question," she said. "He's been too busy with a new patient to tell us."

The was a pause on the line. "Well, at least I'm not the only one who was given the brush-off," he murmured. Speaking up he asked, "What new patient?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out."

"I'll be in touch."

A click sounded in her ear and Parker tossed her phone back onto the desk.

"Miss Parker, I can't find anything out of the ordinary," Broots reported. "I don't think we're going to find anything."

"Keep looking," she said, pacing the floor. "Search the entire database for anything abnormal." She paused thoughtfully then added, "Syd better really have a new patient because if this is some sort of ruse..." she swore, "He'd better not be covering his hide because he's seeing some woman or the Centre will be looking for a new Freud!"

* * *

He hurried through the parking garage with a distressed look on his face. Pausing at the side of his Mercedes, he glanced about uneasily as he unlocked the door. Once he was locked safely within the vehicle, he let out a large breath, pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, and slumped over the steering wheel. 

A pair of frigid azure eyes and a pair of internecine obsidian eyes watched him from the shadows.

"I wonder what our dear Mr. Lyle is so upset about?" There was a crisp edge of ridicule in the suave contralto voice that spoke.

A high pitched schoolgirl giggle rang out.

"Perhaps he is worried about the late Mutumbo's family," suggested the very young voice. "We all know what a caring man, Mr. Lyle is."

A deep chuckle join the giggling. "Or perhaps it's something more personal?"

"Oh, oh, trouble with the little woman, I'll bet."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, just this little thing that I found?"

The rustling of paper being exchanged infiltrated the silence for a bit, then an engine revved covering the voices.

"So," said the deep voice once the car had driven off, "Mr. Lyle is looking for proof of his marriage, is he?"

"Yes, he's been searching quite frantically for the past four days. He's even been neglecting the search for Jarod because of it."

"This will not do. His search may lead him to an area he should not be."

"What do we do?"

"We distract him," an oily smile coated the words. "Gogo, I want you to divert Mr. Lyle's attention. We know well his affinity for Asian cuisine, so use that to your advantage. He is not to get any more emotionally attached to the Project."

The schoolgirl laugh sounded again. "I shall very much enjoy taking him from Princess Mia."

"Yes," the voice took on a condescending tone. "Well, let's hope you can succeed. Your record in defeating her in simulation is not impressive."

Gogo hissed. "Yes, but this time we'll be playing on my terms."

* * *

"Oh, oh." Broots covered his mouth with his hand. 

Parker was instantly next to him. "You find something on Sydney?"

"N-no," he said, unable to take his eyes off the monitor. "But I found her."

Parker frowned as she studied the picture of a very attractive, very young Asian girl. The side panel said her name was Kane Michiyo. "Who is she?"

"The girl I told you about, the one I ran into last week."

"Raines' new bodyguard?"

"That's her- Gogo or whatever."

"What's the rest of the file say?"

"Just Styx- there under her name. That's all there is to the file."

"Did you say Styx?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Styx was the river of Hades in Greek mythology. It's also the name of the Greek goddess of hate."

"So wh-," Broots' eyes widened as he made a possible connection. "So far we've run across a Project ARES, a Melpomene, and now a Styx..."

"Wanna bet they're all related?"

* * *

She was in middle of cooking dinner when he came home, slamming the doors behind him. She watched him disappear into his study and lock the door without saying a word to her. She sighed heavily and returned to her food preparations. 

The visit to Sydney had been exhausting and had left her confused and disassociated from herself. She wanted help recovering her memory more than anything, but with the restrictions that had been placed on her, she didn't see how that would be possible. It was a shame, too, because she liked the doctor- he seemed so kind, so fatherly- that she wanted to talk to him, she just... couldn't.

To keep her mind off of the disturbing day, she had turned to cooking a dinner for two: pork chops alla pizzaiola, Italian chopped salad, sgroppina, and baked mashed potatoes with Parmesan cheese and bread crumb, and mocha semifreddo for dessert. She would have been happier fixing Lyle's favorite foods, but since he did not often talk to her, she wasn't even sure he liked Italian food. She did know that he preferred Oriental food as that was what he always brought home. She went ahead with her meal anyway because she did not know how to cook Chinese food and would not have even if she had.

Remarkably, he came to the table unsummoned and though morose was not as volatile as he been when he first came in. Dinner commenced in silenced and she grew increasingly vexed with his apathy. She played with the food on her plate until he finished eating, then rose and began to clear the table. When she went to take his plate, he caught her by the waist as he stood up and held tightly to her.

"That was good," he lauded so quietly that she almost didn't hear him. He took his plate and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her speechless at his seeming ability to read her mind- a word from him was all she wanted.

Once the dishes were done, Amelia went to bed early, too tired to watch the television shows she usually enjoyed. As usual, she went to bed alone.

A few hours passed before he felt it was safe to enter the bedroom. Her deep and steady breathing indicated that she was asleep. Gingerly, he climbed onto his side of the bed and stretched out next to her. He did nothing except watch her sleep. Her hair was spread to the side and hanging off the edge of the bed, a frown marred her doll-like features.

He knew he was on thin ice with her; he knew he had nearly blown it at dinner and had just barely recovered by complimenting her. He knew it wouldn't satisfy her. He knew she wouldn't put up with him forever. He knew...

He knew the marriage was a fraud. She wasn't his wife and never had been. It was a joke- a sick, twisted joke. He could see the jeering faces of Cox, Raines, and Lyle Bowman in the room with them, ridiculing him for his stupidity.

Somewhere, the voices add to the mocking.

His gaze drifted to her left hand that lay on her pillow palm up. The rings she had so desperately wanted back earlier in the day were not on her finger.

He panicked.

Then he began to plot.

He would have the last laugh- they weren't going to make a fool out of him. And he would have Amelia... one way or another.


	15. Risky Ventures

_An: There will be a lot packed into the next several chapters, so they will take longer to write. For those waiting for Parker and Jarod to come face to face, please be patient; it will happen and it will be good. It's just that Jarod is only on the periphery of what's brewing in the Centre as is Miss Parker. Until one of them figures out more of what's going on, Jarod won't be fully pulled in. ;) _

_Also, we'll see that Lyle speaks at least one Oriental language (still doing some research here). I'm mentioning this because it is not cannon in the series. We saw in "A Stand Up Guy" that he needed an interpreter in order to communicate with Tanaka. Then later, it was established that Lyle had spent a good of time in the Orient ("Year of Agent Zero", other episodes). I find it difficult to believe that he would not have, at the very least, picked up some of the language. According to the series, he spoke fluent German, but it didn't seem as though he had much use for it. Unless of course he got stationed at Centre Ops in Germany when he was younger- who knows? Anyway . . . _

_Hope everyone's Thanksgiving was good. :)_

_**Gemini:** Thanks, I did have a good Thanksgiving. I'm glad you like the way I'm writing the Parker twins. Look for more confrontations and sibling rivalry coming soon._

_**NYT:** Ah, it's good to that you feel for Lyle. I see a lot of parallels between him and Parker; he's just darker and more twisted. On the other hand, full redemption for Lyle may be close to impossible._

_**Imagine:** It's a very good idea you have- you and I think a lot alike. :) I'll see what I can do about that big fight. ;) I want to deal with the revelations about Lyle that were brought up in the tv series through Mia's eyes. A little later on we'll see if what really happened to Shei Ling is the same as what Miss Parker was told. _

_**LJP:** Hehe... yep, he's about to make an entrance. Especially after the stunt Mia's going to pull._

_Reviews are the greatest... please keep them coming._

_Lyrics from Disney's Cinderella._

* * *

**Chapter 13: Risky Ventures**

"_My dreams were of the most terrific description. Every species of calamity and horror befell me. Among other miseries, I was smothered to death between huge pillows, by demons of the most ghastly and ferocious aspect. Immense serpents held me in their embrace, and looked earnestly in my face with their fearfully shining eyes. _

_Then deserts, limitless, and of the most forlorn and awe-inspiring character, spread themselves out before me. Immensely tall trunks of trees, gray and leafless, rose up in endless succession as far as the eye could reach. Their roots were concealed in wide spreading morasses, whose dreary water lay intensely black, still, and altogether terrible, beneath. And the strange trees seemed endowed with a human vitality, and waving to and fro their skeleton arms, were crying to the silent waters for mercy, in the shrill and piercing accents of the most acute agony and despair." - Edgar Allan Poe, The Narrative of Arthur Ugordon Pym, 1838_

* * *

_A room of beauty and elegance was spread before her as visions of a fairy tale life danced in her head. The antiques that furnished the room lent a Victorian feel to the area, much to her delight. She felt as though she was lighter than air; her bare feet barely touched the lush carpeting as she danced. _

_The intoxicating aroma of roses and expensive perfume wafted around her, enveloping her senses in a blissful euphoria. Slowly, she twirled watching with child-like enthusiasm as the skirt of her quaint nightgown billowed out around her. _

_A light rap at the door interrupted her giggling. "Thirty minutes, Miss," a kindly, old voice informed her. "Do you need any assistance? I can fetch the maid."_

"_No," she responded still lost in her dream. "I'll be fine."_

_Still floating in easy circles, she held her left hand out in front of her. The light caught on the diamond on her ring finger before it was splintered into a thousand pieces and sent on their separate ways._

"_**So this is love... Mmmmmm..." **She drifted over to the wardrobe and opened its doors. **"So this is love... So this is what makes life divine..."**_

_Inside was an exquisite gown of ivory duchess satin-silk- a classic design fit for a princess bride. _

"_**I'm all aglow... Mmmmmm... And now I know the key to all heaven is mine..."**_

_Somehow she managed to find the zipper that was hidden behind illusion buttons and zip the back herself. Modeling giddily in front of the full length mirror, she reveled in the image she saw reflected in the glass.The bodice was detailed with a beaded embroidered square neckline and elaborately beaded and embroidered cap sleeves. More beading accented the empire waist and floor length A-line skirt. Dainty hand rolled silk rosettes with seed pearl centers embellished the trim and encrusted the sleeves. Lastly, the couture pleats added a fullness to the front skirt giving it the 'princess' look while a pretty chapel train spread out behind her. _

_It was every little girls' dream come to fruition_.

"_**My heart has wings... Mmmmmm... And I can fly... I'll touch ev'ry star in the sky..."**_

_Her hair was already in soft curls that spiraled down to her waist and she saw no need to alter it. As she was pinning the ivory flowers in her long tresses, another knock came at the door._

_An dark haired woman in her fifties entered the room, uncalled. The woman looked browbeaten and would not make eye contact as she fixed the antique veil into the young one's hair. She left as abruptly as she had come._

_She resumed her place in front of the mirror, glowing with happiness. Nothing in the world could bring her down to the realm of mortals ever again. _

**_  
"So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of... Mmmmmm... Mmmmmm... So this is love_**..."

_A loud, firm knock sounded at the door once more announcing that thirty minutes had passed and the moment she had waited for her entire life had come._

_The door creaked opened but there was no one on the other side. _

_However, she was shielded in blithe and felicity as she passed from the Victorian dressing room into the dark corridor. Soon, though, her barrier to the real world began to diminish in strength. _

_The corridor became increasingly darker and more narrow. Fear began to replace happiness as the hall stretched out endlessly before her. She tried to turn back and return to the dressing room, but only a cold wall stood behind her and there was no way beyond it. _

_She resumed her descent into the unknown. The Wedding March that had shortly before been echoing through the passage was gone and a Requiem played in its stead._

_Panic arose in her throat as the euphoria broke completely. She began to run._

_Suddenly, the hallway ended and a door presented itself in her path. She froze._

_A cold hand gripped her wrist. A wheezing filled her ears with its hot breath. _

_Two men stood on either side of her. The one breathing on her was tall and menacing and pulled something along behind him. She could not make out the features of his face. The one that held her so fiercely, too, was tall and dressed in lavish clothes all in black. His face was also indistinguishable though he was only inches away. All that was exposed was his eyes- his supercharged eyes of azure flames were such eyes that could bore through a person's soul; eyes that could kill. _

_The eyes crinkled into a sinister smile as the door opened._

_The breath of fire moved away from her throat and moved ahead of her through the door, dragging its ball and chain behind it. _

_The hand of the eyes that held her released her briefly only to clutch her arm tightly as it prepared to escort her through the door._

_Beyond the door was the heart of the malefic- a chamber from a gothic horror. It was into that nightmare they entered._

_The Requiem for the Dead played on._

_As the altar neared, she wished for all sorts of cataclysm to halt the terror she was about to be sacrificed to. But none came and she wished for death._

_At the dais, stood a woman dressed in crimson robes. Her face was obscured by darkness; only impeccably manicured nails on olive hands were visible. _

_Another figure stood on the woman's left facing her... the groom!_

_Nausea crashed over her relentlessly. _

_The man before her turned as the killer eyes gave her hand to him. Perhaps more terrifying than being gifted to a stranger was being gifted to one without a face. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone- stolen by fear. _

_The ceremony commenced without her consent as the world around her swirled and bubbled with hellish figures and the pronouncement of man and wife sealed her forever in the realm of incubi. _

_Wheezing became loud in her ear again as the fiery breath licked her ear and it said,_

"_Welcome home to the Centre."_

* * *

Amelia awoke drenched in sweat and on the verge of hyperventilating. Images of the nightmare she had just escaped were so vivid in her mind that they haunted her even in consciousness; she could not close or open her eyes without seeing the horrific reel playing again.

"Bobby," she rasped, seeking comfort in her companion. "Bobby, I've just had the worst..."

She suddenly became acutely aware that he was not beside her; his side of the bed was cold.

"Bobby?" Terror gripped her again as she feared she had awoken from one nightmare into another.

Not bothering with a robe or slippers, Amelia began to search the apartment for her husband all while under the leering grin of the Buddha on the television.

"Bobby!"

Going back into their bedroom, she looked for signs he had left the building, but there were none. All of his shoes remained neatly lined up in the closet. No clothes were missing, save what he had worn to bed that night. His coats were all there as well, organized according to color and fabric. His car keys, wallet, money were all in their assigned location in the dresser drawers. Nothing was missing, expect him.

_What on earth is going on? _

She had no idea what to do, where to go, or who to call. She was alone, confused, and frightened.

Then in the silence, she heard something strange. It was a peculiar, muffled sound- a sound akin to crying. She listened closely attempting to locate the source which seemed close by.

She opened the closet door and the vocalization became clearer, though still distant. And it sounded more like a deep weeping than mere crying.

She did not understand were it was coming from. Even the closet light yielded no answers. She had heard tales of cats being trapped behind walls, but this was unlike any cat she had ever heard; it was distinctly human. With a shudder and a sigh, she retreated from the closet and the bedroom, telling herself that it was her imagination revved up from the nightmare and nothing more. If it was anything, it was probably coming from the apartment next to them.

But the sound remained in her ears, pleading with her to listen. She turned up the volume on the television until it drowned out the vociferation. Knowing she would not be getting back to sleep that night, she settled in with a cup of coffee to watch tv with the Buddha.

* * *

Later that day, they entered the Centre via the way they always did- from an unused side alley, through a dark labyrinth of corridors that Lyle controlled and where no cameras had eyes, and into the main complex, eventually reaching their final destination: Sydney's office. It was an elaborate scheme that seemed pointless to Amelia; what difference did it make if anyone saw her?

They had just entered an abandoned sub-level and were continuing navigation of the maze when Lyle came under the sense that they were being followed. More than a little paranoid, he pushed Amelia behind him and drew his gun. With one hand on her and one eye on the shadow under scrutiny, he pulled them onward.

Lit areas of the sub-level were few and far between. But when they came upon the next illuminated space, they discovered Lyle's paranoia was not unfounded. The shadow did not disappear in light.

"Who's there?" The click of Lyle's gun being cocked echoed through the passage.

Amelia cringed and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to ward off the visions that invaded her consciousness.

_She edged her way through the darkness, feeling her way along the concrete walls of the tunnel system she was trapped in. Somewhere water trickled down into the depths. She glanced continuously over her shoulder, afraid of what might lurking in the shadows…waiting… _

_She stopped momentarily. Something heavy kept swinging into her hip. Her hands felt for the source and found it in the pocket of the suit coat. Her fingers wrapped around the cold solid object and pulled it out._

_It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but she held it close to her face and, by running her fingertips over it, was able to tell that it was a handgun._

_She inhaled sharply. Heavy in her hand, the gun appeared to her to be a snake, lethal and ready to kill. She swallowed hard, her hands trembling for she had never held a gun before._

_A strange sensation charged through her veins like electricity through wire. She felt oddly disassociated from herself. Her hands, as though operating independently from the rest of her, turned the gun over, opened the chamber, and felt the number of rounds. There were six._

_Her hands closed the chamber while the fingers of her right hand gripped the handle. Her index finger slipped over the trigger. The other hand unlocked the safety. The gun was returned to the pocket, primed and read to go. That was all well and good since her mind had no idea what to do with the weapon._

"_There you are."_

_She jumped and spun around._

_Figure moved from within the shadows. It was a Black Coat. He stared at her._

_Mia looked around frantically to see if there were any others. He appeared alone. She began to back down the corridor, never taking her gaze from the man._

"_You are lost, correct?" He slowly advanced her._

_Her back hit a wall. There was nowhere else to run. Her attention was caught by the evil glint of the dagger in his hand._

"_Come," his voice never wavered in pitch or tone. "Do not make this difficult."_

_With a fluid and silent movement, the gun rose from the pocket and leveled itself at the Black Coat._

_It did not, however, faze him and he continued to advance._

"_You will not shoot." His thin lips twitched as his mouth tried to form a smile but couldn't quite make it._

_The sight of the gun made her tremble or perhaps it was the knowledge that she was the one controlling it and at the same time something controlled her. Her finger tightened around the trigger._

_The gun unexpectedly discharged._

_She started, unsettled by the noise, but she could not pull away from him._

_A rip appeared in the fabric over his shoulder where the bullet had penetrated, she could see now that her eyed were adjusted to the lightless world. He continued to move forward._

_The gun fired again. The ammunition tore into his chest. He moved closer still._

_What the-?_

_She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and prayed for a swift death._

_It has been said that just before a person dies, they see their life speed before them in flashes. The only thing Mia saw was the image of a finely dressed, handsome man with haunting eyes that were so much like her own._

_The final shot resounded with a thunderous crash, and then was dead silence._

_Mia opened one eye and found the man standing less than three feet away. She opened both eyes. There was a deep crimson flood pouring from the wound in his head- the last bullet had nailed him between the eyes._

_She heard a strangled scream. It took several seconds for her to realize that the screech had come from her own burning throat._

_The Black Coat stood motionless before her for an eternity. Then the creature wobbled and fell over- the threat eliminated_...

"Forgive me, sir," a young voice broke through the haunting recollections. Amelia peered around Lyle.

"Show yourself," he demanded with a wave of his gun.

From the dark into the minimal light stepped a young, petite girl dressed in black from head to foot. Her ebony hair hung long and straight around her narrow shoulders. Blunt bangs stopped right above her exotic almond eyes.

Amelia stepped out from behind her husband and regarded the girl with wary curiosity. There was something very familiar about her, but she could not, as usual, remember details.

"What are you doing here?" Lyle lowered the gun, his own curiosity overtaking him.

She smiled a small secretive smile.

"I am lost."

Amelia snorted disdainfully. _Stupid girl,_ she cursed mentally, surprised by her atypical cattiness. The girl turned her black gaze on Amelia and shot her a wicked grin. Immediately, she recognized that the girl was challenging her position and her guard went up.

As for Lyle, a strange smile slithered onto his lips as he took in the full view of the new girl. She noticed this right away and moved closer to him as he put away the gun.

Her secretive smile increased and her seemingly innocent nature was betrayed by the lecherousness with which she looked at Lyle. "Perhaps you could help me find my way, Mr. Lyle," she suggested coyly.

Though clearly taken by the young Asian beauty before him, his senses had not completely left and he had the competency to ask, "How do you know my name? Who are you?"

She was within inches of him when she answered. "You are very well known, Mr. Lyle," she purred, running a delicate hand down the lapel of his jacket. "Especially in Nanjing."

Surprise registered on the face of the Chairman's son. "What do you know of Nanjing?"

Her smile deepened in its secrecy. "My name is," she turned a bottomless gaze on Amelia with a look that gave the redhead the feeling that she should already know the answer. "Gogo."

Amelia gritted her teeth viciously as she tried to hold back her temper. She was furious with this Gogo, but livid with her husband and his captivation with the vixen. Despite her fury, she remained silent giving Lyle every opportunity to redeem himself. However, she wasn't completely confident that he would rise to the occasion.

Gogo pressed closer to him and nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. She grinned triumphantly at Amelia.

"I hear," she hissed a low tone meant only for her rival to hear, "that your husband prefers Asian cuisine over Italian."

Amelia was practically shaking with indignation, but did nothing but fire her own deadly glare at the other woman.

Lyle finally snapped out of his bewitchment and quickly informed Gogo that they had an appointment to keep. Gogo invited herself along, leaving Amelia to tag along behind after Gogo attached herself to Lyle's arm.

"You'll be able to find your way from here," Lyle said once they reached the main floor of the Centre and he detached her grip from his forearm. To his credit, he declined Gogo's invitation to keep him company while Amelia was in "conference".

As they resumed their convert trek to Sydney's office, Lyle, with a distant pleased look on his face, stretched behind his back to pull Amelia closer, but he was met by resistance.

"Don't touch me!" she sibilated, pulling out of his reach.

Lyle rounded on her in puzzlement. "Now what's wrong with you?" he sighed in aggravation.

"Don't you do that!" she cried in a low tone. "Don't you sigh like that- you have no right! If anyone should be exasperated it's me!"

"Why?" Obviously lost as to why he was the target of such quiet rage, Lyle went on the defensive. "Now what did I do to earn your scorn?"

Amelia stared at him, bowled over with his audacity to try to make himself look like the innocuous one. "Oh, _you _didn't do anything," she said, crossing her arms over her waist.

He arched an eyebrow suspiciously. The anger had faded from her voice, but he wasn't such if she was being serious now or sarcastic. He discovered it was the latter when he dared to ask, "I didn't?"

"No," she said demurely, before lashing out. "It's what you didn't do! You didn't bother introduce your _wife_ to that..that.." she swore in such a manner that shocked even Lyle. "You completely ignored me, Robert, while you drooled over that... girl..." She stopped speaking altogether and refused to look at him. She stormed a ways ahead of him, but turned on her heel and came back.

"You know," She was calm, save for her tumultuous gray eyes, "I'm glad you've decided to let me tell Sydney everything because I really need to talk someone now that I'm convinced this marriage is a farce!"

She turned and stormed off again and did not see how Lyle paled to a sickly green at her words. He remained rooted to the spot where he stood. His mind reeled as he tried to think of some way to rectify the situation before it unraveled completely. Still so ingrained in old habits, he had not thought twice about his response to Gogo and certainly did not realize the impact it would have on Amelia. He had made a mistake- a very critical mistake and he was already in a precarious position with her.

* * *

"I just can't make any connections between flashbacks," she told the doctor, after recounting the dark images of syringes filled with strange liquid and bizarre men in black. "I know they have something to do with each or at least I think they do. There's just too much information missing in between."

Sydney leaned back in his chair with a pensive look. The change in Amelia now that she was no longer bound by Lyle's script was astonishing; she was quite talkative and animated as she went over the memories that had been returning to her in bits and pieces. He also picked up the vexation which underlay her words and was seemingly unrelated to what she was talking about.

"When do these memories come to you, Amelia?"

She frowned briefly before answering. "Well, I first remember- I mean really remember in images- about the injections and the doctor and the man and woman in the corridor when I found the syringe or when I touched the syringe, I guess is more accurate. Then," she bit her bottom lip in concentration as she grasped for the other details, "I remembered that strange man when we were in the sublevels."

The doctor nodded, making note of the points of contact that triggered these remembrances. It was positive that she was slowly regaining her past, however that did not help him understand why Jarod's Antidote was ineffective.

"Are you doing all right, Amelia," Sydney asked with genuine concern. "I understand how taxing this is- do you want to stop for today?"

She shook her immediately. "No, no, I'm all right. Really."

He smiled, grateful that she wanted to continue. "You mentioned that you've been having the same nightmare for the past several nights- what can you tell me about it?"

Amelia took in a deep breath and let it out with a shudder before reciting the details she would rather forget.

Sydney frowned slightly as he attempted to decipher any meaning from the dream. Her descriptions of the two men brought to mind the images of two uncouth Centre associates, Raines and Cox, but he refrained from judgement on the characters, not wanting to impose his personal assumptions wrongly.

"Sometimes I wonder..." she began but her voice trailed off as she wrung her hands worriedly.

"Wonder what?" he prodded gently, watching her twist the rings on her wedding finger. He had been curious about them since he first noticed them, but had not yet brought them up.

"If I remembering through the dream what my wedding was like. Bobby won't discuss it so I don't really know..."

_Bobby? _Sydney mused without surprise. _Of course, Lyle would have something to do with the rings._ The psychologist couldn't imagine Lyle allowing her to get involved with any man other than himself.

"Do you remember how long you've married?" he asked with great effort put into keeping the contempt for her husband out of his tone.

"No," she said with defeat. "According to Bobby about four, almost five weeks."

"And how is the marriage working out?"

She now had her chance to pour out all her frustration with Lyle out to someone who would listen. However, something stopped her. As much as she wanted to complain about his mistreatment of her, she felt as though this wasn't the time to discuss their problems. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to straighten out her muddled feelings.

"It hasn't been easy- I can only remember the last week and a half. I don't remember anything about how we met, how long we dated, the wedding... nothing. I barely can recall anything about Bobby and that's caused some problems."

"How so?"

She sighed as she began to feel that she was largely at fault for the problems at home- not completely, but largely.

"I think he's angry that I don't remember him or us. He gets most upset when I remember other people and not him."

Sydney nodded, suddenly realizing that remaining objective when Lyle was involved might be impossible. He tried only to listen and not think to much about the younger man.

"Is that all that's going on?"

"Mostly. I think everything else is a result of that."

The doctor looked at her intently, having picked up on a change of tone. "You don't want to discuss this anymore, do you?"

She gave him a small smile. "Not really."

"That's fine," he assured her. "We'll discuss that some other time. Amelia, your husband tells me that you've been spending some time with a man named Cox. What can you tell me about those visits?"

* * *

Lyle was preoccupied in his world of worry when Sydney came out of his session with Amelia and did not notice the older man's presence. A light cough brought Lyle's thoughts back to reality. He glared sharply at the doctor.

"Well,' he snapped, feeling a tad unbalanced; whether it was physical or mental he wasn't sure.

Sydney returned the glare with a reproachful look. "I'm afraid you're not going to be happy with the results," he said saturninely.

"Why? Didn't she talk to you?"

"Oh, yes, Lyle, she talked and talked quite a bit about everything," he paused, watching Lyle closely. "Everything except you. She didn't say much about you." He noticed with interest Lyle's pallor at his report.

Lyle said nothing. His eyes darted to the floor as he pursed his lips tightly together.

"There still isn't enough information," Sydney went on, "to properly assess what's happening to her. On the surface it would appear that she is suffering from dissociative amnesia as the symptoms are psychological in origin."

"Isn't there some sort of medication you can prescribe to fix this?"

The doctor shook his head. "Under normal circumstances, I could use drug-facilitated interviewing or even hypnosis to retrieve the lost past. But I cannot advise that given her history as a Centre test Project; side effects are impossible to predict."

Lyle bit back a growl and rubbed his gloved hand over his chin. "So you're saying that's it- she's just going to stay like this? That's the antidote failed?"

"I didn't say that," he replied sternly. "Listen to me. I don't believe the Antidote failed, I believe that it's being hindered by something and I have a strong inclination that it's being caused by whatever Cox is doing to her." He regarded the younger man harshly. "Are you sure you told me everything about her visits? I can't help if you withhold anything from me."

"Yes," he clipped the word off bitterly. "I've told you everything. Cox showed up in my office one day informing me that Amelia had been returned to the Centre and that I was oversee her progress. That was it. I wasn't even told what progress to look for."

Sydney nodded looking grim.

"So," Lyle drew in a breath. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

"Assuming that we are dealing with dissociative amnesia, the best thing you can do is make her feel safe and secure- that will help facilitate memory return. And knowing what Cox is doing would help."

"I told you," he growled. "I don't know."

"I didn't say you did," Sydney snapped, slowly losing his control on his temper. "But you have the power and position to find out."

Lyle nodded in acquiescence. "But Cox is still in Africa investigating Mutumbo's murder."

"Must you go through Cox to find out?"

"Maybe not," he chewed on the idea he had not given much thought to before.

"How long have you been married, Lyle?" At the dour look on the younger's man visage, the doctor quickly added. "I'm just curious."

"Five weeks." And that was all he would say on the matter. "Is she ready to go?" he asked, suddenly changing subjects.

Sydney nodded.

On his way back from retrieving his wife, Sydney stopped the Under-director and viewed him with a softer countenance. "It's remarkable," he mentioned in a low tone meant for only Lyle to hear. "That even though you never knew your mother, you married someone much like her."

Lyle just stared at the older man with a strange look on his countenance

* * *

They returned to his office via another secret, winding path. She was still enormously unhappy with him and the more he tried to appease her, the unhappier she became. They were barely inside his office when she assailed him in a barrage of words.

At one point during the bombardment, he wondered if they were having a lover's spat. However, there didn't seem be much loved involved, especially when she tried to hit him. He caught her wrist just before her hand connected with his cheek.

"Look," he said, putting a good amount of space between them. "I have some work I need to get done and you'll just get bored here. Why don't I take you home? I think you could stand the chance to calm down."

She glared at him, then smiled a disconsolated smile.

"I'm sure Gogo would love to keep you company."

_

* * *

__What is he up to?_

She watched him return to his office, skittish and in a hurry. Silently, she followed him.

_What a mess, _he thought, _What am I going to do?_

He entered his office once again and shut the door. Moments, later the door seemingly flung itself open.

_Now what?_

"Parker," he spat contemptuously. "You don't believe anyone but you deserves the courtesy of a knock, do you?"

_Would it kill you to be gracious to me just once?_

"I don't believe you deserve any courtesy, baby brother," she grinned, shutting the door behind her.

_It would kill me to be gracious even once to you._

_Baby brother... don't call me that- you don't have anysisterly feelings for me._

"I can't imagine why you'd be bothering me now when there's a Pretender out there who still hasn't been caught, Sis."

_Sis... don't call me that- you don't have anybrotherly feelings for me._

"Actually that's exactly why I'm here," she said. Her face clouded with graveness as she leaned over the desk. "A little bird told me you had a chat with our Jarod and failed to inform anyone here."

"You mean I failed to inform _you._"

"What happened, Lyle? Did you try to pull off another half-cocked scheme to bring Jarod in and it back fired on you?"

_You're not capable of bring Jarod in._

_You think you're the only one capable of bringing Jarod in._

"It's not my job to inform you of contact with Jarod, it never has been," the chair he sat in slammed into the far wall as he rose to meet her scornful smirk. His lips curled backed over his teeth a sneer that matched hers, "And it never will be."

_Don't try to intimidate me, Parker._

She leaned further over desk until they were nearly touching noses.

_Don't try to intimidate me, Lyle._

"Jarod said he ran into you through a mutual friend- what are you doing with Amelia?"

_You're despicable enough to fraternize with a Project and use her to your advantage._

He grinned maleficently. "Late night calls with the wayward Pretender again, Sis? What are you doing with Jarod?"

_You're miserable enough to fraternize with the Pretender and use him to your advantage._

Parker pulled back, glaring sanguinarily at her brother. "I'm watching you, baby brother."

_I hate you..._

"Likewise, Sis."

_I hate you..._

* * *

She was in their bedroom, rifling through every nook and cranny in her search for pieces of her missing past. Time and a chance to think had not calmed her emotions from the run in with Gogo. If anything, they had made her even more irate.

The room was a mess; it looked as though a burglar had broken in and ransacked the place. She knew she needed deal with the disarray before he came back, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was overlooking something. Her eyes meticulously swept the room looking for something... anything...

Her gaze fell onto the bed and her brow furrowed. She had not checked between the box spring and mattress. The mattress was too heavy for her to lift up and she could only push it so far off of its foundation. She leaned against the bedframe, panting heavily, when her vision caught on something small trapped under the mattress.

It was a dog-eared photograph of a woman in her early thirties. Amelia's frown deepened as a memory tried unsuccessfully to surface. The woman looked so familiar- she could almost swear that she had seen her before.

Before she could contemplate the photograph further, she saw something else in the area the picture had been. She tugged the papers free and saw that there were many more.

Her mist gray eyes turned maelstrom black when she saw the contents of the numerous catalogues.

* * *

He had spent the last four hours accomplishing little. His search for information on Project Aries was fruitless; Cox had apparently taken those files with him to Africa. And he was still troubled by dilemma he had with Amelia herself.

He decided the best way for him to get back in good standing with the redhead would be to... buy her love, so to speak. He had stopped at the jewelers his father was fond of and invested in a 8.3 carat oval pink tourmaline pendant that was encrusted in diamonds. He had also booked weekend reservations for two at the Cabin O' Love.

With the jewelry box in the interior pocket of his jacket and a bouquet of white Java orchids in his hand, he jogged up the stairs to his apartment. As he went to unlock the door, he noticed a large box sitting in the hall outside of his place. He frowned at the contents of box which looked very familiar. Upon closer inspection, he was surprised to discover that all of the items were figurines and other oddities he had collected while in Asia that had once adorned his bedroom.

He had a sinking feeling that it was going to be harder than he originally thought to win her back.

Leaving the box where was, but vowing to come back for it later, Lyle entered his home with great apprehension. Inside all was quiet and still... too quite and still. He frowned as he set the flowers on the kitchen table.

"Mia?"

There was no answer.

"Mia, I'm home."

Still no response and he began to panic, imagining that she had left him for good.

"Mia!" he swore, searching the rooms. "Where are you?"

He stormed into the bedroom in a frenzy. He fully expected to see something atrocious in the bedroom, but aside from bare walls and little interior decoration, nothing was out of place. He passed by the bed as he explored and saw the picture of his biological mother lying on his pillow. His heart rate quickened. If she had found that, he worried over what else she might have found. He surveyed the room searching from something amiss, he found it in the scent of the room. An acrid, charred odor filled the area around him.

Something was burning!

Disorientation washed over him as he couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from; nothing in the room or closet was on fire. Exiting the closet, he immediately saw the closed bathroom door. Smoke wafted beneath the entry.

He fumbled momentarily in his dresser drawer for the key to unlock the door from the outside. He burst in the bathroom to find Amelia sitting in the bath.

"Mia?"

She did not give any indication that she heard him or was even aware of his presence. She appeared to be in a trance as she stared at the paper being eaten by fire. Once the page became ashes, she reached for another sheet, struck a match, and watched the new sheet be consumed.

"Mia?" he spoke softly as he slowly approached the tub, careful not startle her. "What are you do-?"

His blood ran cold when he saw that she was burning his mail-order bride catalogues.


	16. Interlude: A New Killer Star

_AN: I loved the reaction to the last chapter! That's what I was going for. :) However, I think everyone is going want to throw something at me for this next part- it's not a regular chapter, but an interlude which is a necessary evil, I'm afraid. _

_**NYT:** You're not the only one too lazy for the new system- me too! Your assumption is correct- we'll see Lyle's feelings regarding his biological mother surface as well as those for his adoptive parents and Mia will be there when it happens. (Hint look for that to occur during a Parker family holiday event; definitely _not_ the most wonderful time of the year!)_

_**Nans:** Look for Sydney to take a more proactive stance in the next few chapters- he uncovers an interesting detail that will change the nature of his arrangement with Lyle._

_**Koolkaz:** Thank you, I'm glad you think so._

_**Imag1ne: **Thank _you_ for a great review. The revelations are not over yet and the ramifications of their discover will turn Lyle's world upside downside. I hope others are going through the same battle over whom to sympathize with- my guess is that you won't be able to make a final decision until the very end. ;)_

_**LJP:** Mia's dark side will definitely come back to haunt Lyle. _

_**Gemini:** Lyle might want to consider moving before Mia finds that hidden shed! Lol Sydney and Broots will attempt to aid Mia, but whether she'll accept the help is a whole 'nother matter. The Parker twins encounter last chapter was foreshadowing of things to come. _

_Updates should come a bit faster now- the semester is nearly over; the 13th is the last day of finals for me. Woohoo!_

* * *

**Interlude: A New Killer Star**

_...The subject is showing remarkable progress in her training. She has completed each and every simulation in record time. Every task had been completed cleanly- no evidence of her presence is left behind. With every session, her ability and reflexes increase, however, despite high marks and enviable speed and precision, she still falls short of the original. Ideally, she will be brought up to par with her predecessor, but it is my opinion that she will never reach that standard. Her only advantage over Melpomene is her lack of conscience without activation._..

"Cease!"

Obsidian eyes of blank expression turned in the direction of the command. Simulation was over.

"Report, Styx."

The svelte femme fatale obeyed the beckoning and took her place before the imposing figure of Mr. Cox. The vacant stare remained as she sat on stool and pulled her hair off of her neck as directed. The doctor smiled to himself as he picked a hypodermic needle from the table next to him.

"No more lurking in the shadows for you and I now, Gogo," he murmured. His gaze was transfixed upon the inky solution that swirled in the body of the syringe. "No more kowtowing to Mr. Lyle or Mr. Raines or... Mr. Parker."

He laughed triumphantly at the thought. "You and I are at the top of Centre hierarchy as of this moment, my dear. So says our most glorious Director."

Gogo said nothing nor did she react to his words. She merely stared straight ahead into the unseeable.

Cox raised the needle to the base of her neck. "You will shadow Mr. Raines for now. You will play the role of his bodyguard, but you will take your directions from me."

The contents of the syringe drained into her system. Cox removed the needle.

"But first you will go back to Africa and finish off that crazy Zulu's family." He smiled a demented smile. "No trace of Mutumbo's lineage is to remain." He paused to stare at the syringe again. Suddenly, his eyes lit with a new idea. "And Gogo, I want you to make it appear as though a Parker is responsible. Any Parker will do- Mr. Parker, Miss Parker, Lyle... all of them..."

She did not blink.

Cox cast her look of admiration as an artist would regard a favorite creation. "Styx, commence mission objectives. Go! Go!"

Life suddenly coursed through Gogo's veins. She turned to Cox with a devilish grin. "It will be my pleasure, sir."

_... It has been brought to our attention that MIRAGE may not be ready in time for activation. At the commission of the Director, the completion time of ARES has been accelerated in the event that it is needed as a substitution for MIRAGE..._


	17. Searching for Eden

_**AN for part 1**: Well, this isthe last update before the New Year. I do have a Christmas chapter planned, but unfortunately it won't be seen for another three chapters and an interlude, which will put it into next year (not too far in, hopefully). I apologize that this chapter is short- I intended for it to be longer, but I've already taken so long to update that I've broken it down. That being said, I hope you had a safe and Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday season!_

_**LJP:** It'll get very nasty, indeed! ;)_

_**Gemini**: Finals went well, I'm happy to report :) lol Cox seems bound and determined to put the Parkers out of business, doesn't he? _

_Reviews always appreciated. ;)_

_**AN for part 2:** Again, thank you to everyone who is reviewing and to everyone who is reading. I actually had no intention of getting another chapter up before the New Year, but felt compelled to give you the rest of the previous chapter. Lol Happy New Years._

_**Gemini:** Ah, those pesky voices! ;) To bad Lyle's Inner Sense isn't more like his sister's... Sydney's relationship with his son will get the chance to grow more, too._

_**Koolcaz:** Glad you like the development between Lyle and Mia, which we will see even more of as the chapters progress._

_**NYT:** LJP is right that I could said "wide eyed and very guilty". Sorry about that... I was playing with the thesaurus when I wrote that last line. Lol._

_**LJP:** Mia will certainly prove herself as a force to be reckoned with, both to Lyle and others.. ;) As for Lyle and Mia actually getting their act together, well..._

_Lyrics by Paul Williams and the Romantics_

* * *

**Chapter 14: Searching for Eden**

_Is this all that's left of my life before me? Straight jacket memories, sedative highs... No happy ending like they've always promised... There's got to be something left for me... - "Eyes of a Stranger", Queen._

_

* * *

His jolly grin beamed out of a rolly poly face and his bronze skin gleamed in the early morning light. His grin remained constant when the first blow fell, knocking a chunk out of his ample figure. The next blast amputated his hands. As the murderous mallet chipped away at him, still his jovial smile remained until it was all that remained of the Buddha... and one final swing remedied that._

* * *

"Is that all of it?" Her normally mist gray eyes were ebony slits that watched his every move with critical vigilance.

"Yes," he sighed, dumping the large, awkward box he was carrying into the dumpster in the alley.

She turned sharply on her heel and headed back to their apartment and he followed without a word of protest- had he been a dog his ears would have been flat against his head with his tail between his legs.

The apartment he had lived in with relative peace for the past three years was now stripped bare, completely devoid of any reminders of his former life... per his wife's demands.

She told him that he was free to redecorated as he pleased providing that none of the new decor even remotely resembled anything from the Far East. It was not an undertaking he particularly wanted as he feared he would do something that offended her. It was so peculiar for him to be afraid of a woman, particularly one he was married to. Even his sister, who was quite intimidating, he did not fear, only loathed. And yet, there he stood, trembling before the petite redhead worried that the sacrifice was not great enough and she still required a penance.

After examining each room and satisfied that everything appalling was gone, the black glare dissolved and the sweetness he was familiar with returned. "Well," she said finally, "Redecorating can wait until we get back from West Virginia."

Lyle regarded her with uncertainty. He had intended to take her to the Cabins O' Love to renew her loyalty to him, however, after finding her burning his belongings, he assumed the trip was off.

The goddess was appeased... or so it seemed.

"Oh?" he ventured hesitantly.

She smiled a secretive smile and kissed his cheeks. "Let's get packin'," she said, patting his backside as she passed by him.

Swallowing a sigh, Lyle obediently followed her into the bedroom.

* * *

He was tired and weary and the day had only just begun.

The bags under his eyes told that sleep was elusive these days and the deep worry lines around his lips and eyes betrayed the anxiety he was under.

He had no session with Amelia that day so with any luck that would translate into no meeting with Lyle. Now if he could only manage to avoid Miss Parker, he might be able to gain some semblance of rest.

Then the phone began to ring.

He sighed heavily and considered not answering it; he did not want to talk to Jarod as he did not want to lie to him nor hang up on him again in order to avoid those lies.

Reluctantly, he reached for the phone.

"This is Sydney."

"Hey!" came the cheery greeting. "How're you doing, Sydney?"

The psychologist stared numbly at the folders on his desk, his mind reeling. _This can't be! How... What about Lyle!_

Evidently, the Chairman's son had devised a new and terrible way to torment him... by impersonating his son's voice.

"Nicholas?" he finally sputtered in disbelief.

"Yeah," his son laughed, good-naturedly. "Who'd you think it was?"

"I-I don't know. Nicholas, are you all right?" Sounds of the road filtered in around the sound of his son's voice, but it did not give Sydney any clue to his whereabouts.

"I'm great- just fine," his voice faded for a moment before returning with even more strength. " Are you? You sound funny."

"Yes, I'm fine... now. I just thought... Nicholas, where are you?"

"Ah, on my way home. I just got finished dropping off my students- we went on a field trip to the Natural History Museum."

"You've been there all day?"

"Yeah..." the grin in Nicholas' voice died down. "What's wrong?"

"Have you had any contact with Lyle?"

"Lyle who?" the young man sounded truly confused.

"Mr. Lyle," he tried to clarify. "The man without a thumb?"

"No, why would I? I only met him that one time- over a year ago. Dad, you've got me really worried. Do I need to get a hold of Mom?"

_It was a bluff! Lyle had been bluffing the whole time!_

Relief warmed his chilled psyche and he began to laugh quietly.

"No, no," he told his son, "No, don't worry her- everything's all right."

"Are you sure?" he asked, clearly not convinced.

He was about to respond in the affirmative, when another emotion hit him. "D-did you call me... Dad?" He asked hesitantly, afraid that he had heard only what he wanted to hear and not what was actually said.

Nicholas laughed lightly. "Yeah, you are, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Hey, listen," he went on, "the real reason I called was to see if you might have some time off of work around the holidays. Mom and I'd really like to see you for Christmas."

He couldn't repress the grin that broke free of his restraint. "I'm sure I can managed to get away."

"Great! I'll have Mom call and get the details confirmed. I'm going to have to go now."

"All right. Take care, son."

"Yeah, see you soon, Dad."

Sydney hung up the phone as a strange sensation settled in his chest- a sensation he had not felt in decades... Hope.

And then reality, descended upon him. Since Lyle did not have Nicholas, he had no way to bind the doctor their agreement.

Abruptly, the psychologist rose and left his office at a rapid pace. Without bothering to knock, he flung open the door to Miss Parker's office. The younger woman flashed him a disgruntled glare.

"I need to talk to you, Miss Parker," he said quickly, cut short a sharp retort.

"Not now, Syd."

"It's about Lyle and my newest patient."

Parker stared at him in surprise for a moment. "Well, then," she said, closing out the computer program she had been fooling with. "My schedule just got clear."

* * *

A contented smile rested on her lips and her eyelids drooped sleepily and the vibrations of SUV lulled her to the edge of slumber.

Lyle glanced at her apprehensively. He was as restless as she was happy. The voices had kept him up all night... again. The previous night had been more than a little stressful as they packed for their weekend getaway. While there had been no more incidents of anger or removal of items from the apartment, he could not relax. Near paralyzing fears and insecurities preyed mercilessly upon his mind, generating grand paranoiathat was cultivated by the voices.

He knew he should not listen to them. He tried, he truly tried, to ignore them, but after fighting them half the night, he caved into them. He was weak, as they said he was, and he spent the rest of the night listening to their claims of what would happen if Amelia discovered that they were not legally married. She would leave him, they said, but worse than that, she would despise him, just like his sister and everyone else in his life did. And nothing, they postulated, would make her stay.

It was this remark that sent the wheels of plotting in motion. He had to prove the voices wrong- he could and he would make her stay. He would show them.

_But she'll still hate you..._

Lyle let out a heavy sigh and accelerated the vehicle. After another hour and a half of driving, he began to look for a gas station. The car didn't need gasoline as much as he needed to implement the first phase of his plan.

_No matter what you do... She'll still hate you..._

A funny feeling prodded under thesinister plotting. It wiggled through a tiny crack in the blackness of bad behavior that was about to assert itself and found a way to the forefront of his consciousness. He glanced again at her, now completely asleep with a small smileon her lips.

_She doesn't deserve this_, that funny feeling told him. _She's never been anything but kind to you..._

With a deeply troubled look on his face, he shooed away the sensation, and pulled up to the pump.

"Babe," he pulled her hair back from her neck, letting the cool air wake her.

"Hmm?"

"You want anything while we're at the station?"

"We're here already?"

"Yeah."

"Coffee- no decaf."

"That all?"

"Yeah."

Inside, he fixed her coffee the way she preferred- Irish creme, one sweetener (not sugar). But before he poured the sweetener in, he took a small pouch out of the inside of his jacket and added the contents in along with the sweet condiment. After sealing the lid, he quickly paid the attendant and returned to the car.

As they continued on their trip and Amelia sipped her drink, that funny feeling returned and would not leave.

* * *

When no one answered his knock, Broots slipped quietly through door praying that Miss Parker was in a semi-agreeable mood. He clutched the paper in his hand tightly, crinkling the edge, as he scanned the room for his boss. He found her in a corner by the windows speaking with Sydney. Broots regarded the two curiously.

Parker happened to glance up as he neared the desk and motioned him over. Sydney acknowledged him with a tiny smile.

"Hey," Broots cleared his throat. "What's going on?"

"Syd was just filling me in on baby brother's little bluff," Parker said in the annoyed tone that was reserved for when she spoke of Lyle to others.

"I don't follow," Broots said looking to the doctor.

"The new patient I've been seeing was brought to me by Lyle," Sydney informed the technician. "He demanded that the sessions be carried out in complete secrecy; no one was to know anything. He said if anyone found out anything all Nicholas would be harmed."

"He has Nicholas?"

"No," the doctor smiled ruefully, "as it turns out, he doesn't. Nicholas called about twenty minutes ago. He was on his way home from an outing with his students. He has not seen or heard from Lyle since their first encounter."

"Well, I'm glad he's safe," Broots said, overwhelmed by the new information, and Sydney nodded. "Who's the new patient though?"

Parker took over the conversation at that point. "Project Heptagon," she said darkly.

"You mean Mia?" Broots frowned. "I thought that was all over with."

"So did we. But we should have known better- Lyle never does anything magnanimously," Parker's eyes deepened a shade. "Apparently, she's lost her memory again and Lyle wants it back."

"Do we know why?"

"No, not yet and Lyle's cancelled her next session with Syd and disappeared."

Broots glanced down abruptly, suddenly remembering the paper in his hands. "Oh, I think I can help with that," he replied, handing the document to Parker. "This was the reason I came in to begin with."

Parker's blue eyes flashed over the paper taking in its contents. Sydney leaned over her shoulder with curiosity.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A receipt," she answered absently, "of a reservation for..."

The doctor glance worriedly at the other man who shifted uncomfortably.

"The Cabins o' Love," Broots finished.

Sydney's brow shot up in surprise.

Parker swore. "It's happening again!"

* * *

It was dark where she was and watery. She felt as though she floating downward. She wondered if she would ever hit the bottom then decided the falling was rather pleasant and didn'tcare if she ever made it tothe floor or not. The sensation stayed with her a long while. Finally, she attempted to determine her whereabouts and tipped her head back. A soft block met her nose and the block felt oddly like a down pillow. She opened her eyes and winced.

The watery silhouettes of objects she could not recognize swam around her. She turned her tilted head to the side to better make sense of her environment and the instance she did an intense burning pain coursed up her spine to her head. The pain was so extreme that she nearly vomited. She closed her against the agony and focused on fending off the nausea.

In time the pain subsided to a bearable level. As she lay very still in what she now figured was a bed, she heard a sound. Somewhere close by, someone was breathing heavily and muttering something over and over.

"I didn't do that. I didn't do that. You're lying- I didn't do that!"

Confusion wormed its way past the pain and she dared to lift her head. The pain flared again, but she pushed beyond it and fought her way into an upright position. She felt as though she was suffering from the world's worst hangover, which was strange as she couldn't remember being a drinker... actually, she couldn't remember much of anything.

"I didn't do that. I didn't do that. You're lying- I didn't do that!"

She sat underwater for a near eternity until her vision cleared and she see that she was actually in a dark bedroom with no water in sight. In the corner of the room was a hunched figure rocking slightly back and forth.

She blinked, frowned, and peered into the darkness.

"Bobby?"

The figure's head jerked up and continued mumbling.

"Bobby, is that you?"

When no one answered her, she edged toward the foot of the bed for a better look despite the heavy feeling that she would throw up at moment.

"No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no!"

"No what?"

The murmurings stopped suddenly and the area became very still.

"Bobby?" she said again, now able to see him clearly. "What's wrong? Why won't answer me?"

"Stay away!" he barked strong and clear when her foot dropped over the edge of the bed.

She lurched forward, clapping a hand over her queasy stomach and using the other one to brace herself against the mattress as a wave of sickness crashed down on her.

"Wha-? Bobby, I don't understand..."

"I didn't do anything wrong," he said abruptly cutting her off. "It wasn't wrong."

"What wasn't wrong?" She was now as baffled as she was sick.

"It wasn't!" his voice was choked with emotion as he tried to justify himself. "I didn't do that! I didn't."

Amelia frowned, massaging her throbbing head as she tried to make sense of his ramblings. He sounded odd- almost as though he was responding to some unspoken accusations and not her queries. She put her weight fully on the foot that was on the floor, testing to see if she would be able to walk. Her leg trembled beneath her.

"Bobby baby," she tried to console him. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you didn't do it. Just come talk to me."

"No!"

He was not looking at her. His knees were pulled up to his chest and his head bowed down to meet them. His hands were clamped tightly over his ears.

"No!" he cried again, nearly in tears. "I didn't touch her. I didn't! I didn't do that!"

Without thinking, Amelia looked down at herself. She was wearing the jeans and sweater she had put on the morning they had left for West Virginia, only her shoes and socks were gone.

_What's wrong with him? Is he delusional? Hallucinating? Dear Lord, we didn't bring the syringe! If he's having a spell, we're in trouble!_

With every move she made, her stomach threatened to empty its contents. Despite the short distance from her bed to the chair where he sat, it took her a long time to reach him. Finally, she was able to reach out and grasp his arm.

Her touch jerked him back to reality. He stared at her wide-eyed and very inculpative.

* * *

"_Deep down even the most hardened criminal is starving for the same thing that motivates the innocent baby: love and acceptance"-Lily Fairchilde_

* * *

_**Half asleep I hear a voice... Is it only in my mind or is it someone calling me- someone I failed and left behind? **_

He had not moved since she clambered over to where he sat and grabbed hold of him. He had not moved when she crawled to the bathroom. He had not moved when she retched over the toilet. And he did not move now while she cried on the bathroom floor.

He raised a trembling hand to his forehead and shakily swept his hair back. Her gasps of breath between sobs made him cringe as he tried to shut out the sound of her sorrow. That funny feeling that had been with him since the gas station was now screaming at him to go to her and help her.

But still he did not move.

He simply could not face her for to face her would mean he would have to admit what he had done. If she had been angry about the mail-order bride catalogues, he could only imagine how livid she would be with him over this.

_Don't tell, _a breath whispered in the back of his mind. _No one has to know..._

_We know, _snickered the chorus of voice. _We know, we know, and we're going to te-el! She'll hate you!_

_It's your fault she's crying- go help her. It's the least you can do. This is your fault._

_Don't tell. Don't tell._

_She's gonna hate you._

_It's your fault._

_Don't tell._

_She hates you._

_It's your fault._

"NO!" He shook his head viciously trying to rid himself of the din of confusion. Finally, he could stand it no more and jumped up from his seat.

_**To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now ...**_

She was curled up in a ball and huddled against the wall near the toilet, shivering uncontrollably. Every now and again she whimpered pitiably.

_Help her._

_Don't tell._

_She'll hate you._

To say he was afraid would be a great understatement. To add to that fear, he had no idea what to do or what to say. She continued to shake and he continued to stand there in the doorway staring timorously at her. Finally, he got up enough nerve to kneel beside her.

Almost immediately, she sensed his presence and turned toward him. She stared up at him with great hollow eyes with heavy dark circles beneath them. The glazed over look in them were undoubtably an effect of the drug.

Lyle swallowed hard.

"Please," she mewled, stretching out a tremoring hand.

His own hand shook just as bad as he reached out to her. From that gesture she somehow ended up in his arms with her face buried against his neck and shuddering violently against him. He was enormously uncomfortable with situation and his position on the floor. He struggled a bit to stand, then carried her out of the bathroom and laid her on the bed. She was as cold as ice to the touch and wrapping her in all available blankets did little good. He stretched out next to her with apprehension and she snuggled beneath him still whimpering and sniffling. There was nothing they could do except to wait for the drug to run itself out of her system.

_**Face to face I greet the cast... Set in silence we begin... Companions in an empty room, I taste their victory and sin... **_

Several hours later she stirred, but he did not noticed. He was staring straight ahead listening to the howling that seemed to be all around him. It wasn't until she spoke that he realized she was awake.

"Bobby?" she murmured still half-asleep. "What happened?"

Perhaps if he layvery still she would think he was asleep.

"Bobby?"

He groaned and sat up.

"What?" he growled, careful not to look at her.

"I feel so strange and heavy. What happened?"she paused a beat, then went on before he could answer. "Man, that must have been some really bad coffee!"

He made the mistake of turning to look at her when she made that last remark. She caught his gaze with hers and held it fast.

"It wasn't the coffee," He answered without thinking.

She regarded him curiously. He began to sweat and to curse those eyes that could draw anything out of him. Then she snorted in disbelief. "What was it, then?"

_**To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now... **_

He was quiet for such a long time that she became very worried and sat up, still feeling woozy. Slipping an arm around his waist, she rested her chin against his shoulder.

"What did you do?" she asked very quietly without judgement or condemnation.

His pulse raced as he had a sinking feeling that somehow she already knew the answer. She couldn't possibly, of course, but...

"Just tell me, baby," she cajoled. "You'll feel better if you do."

By this time he had resolved not to say a word- his survival depended on it- but the words slipped out anyway.

"The coffee was drugged. That's why you got so sick."

She kept her surprise hidden from him, knowing that the slightest wrong word, reaction, movement, or breath would send him running. "Why?"

He shrugged and clasped his hands behind his neck causing his head to bow towards his knees.

"Because," he snapped roughly. The rest of his response was lost in mumbling.

"I didn't hear you," she said, her tone light and soothing. She lifted his chin up with two fingers, but he refused to look at her.

"I wanted you to marry me," he repeated much louder than necessary. He jerked out of her hold and returned to his original bowed position.

She shook her head slightly. "What are you talking about? We are married, silly."

"No, we're not!" he shouted, standing up suddenly. "No, we're not!"

Amelia gaped at him briefly, trying to collect her thoughts. "Baby," she cautiously tried again. "I don't understand. Can you explain it to me?"

This garnered a bitter snicker from Lyle. "The marriage was a hoax, a sham." He turned fully to her, stalking over to the bed with a deliberate slowness. " A cruel joke on both of us," he leaned over the edge menacingly. "A complete farce."

Unconsciously, she pulled away from him slightly, but enough that he noticed. He hissed, baring his teeth at her, purposely trying to scare her.

She scowled at him and pushed him away. "Knock it off, Bobby," she scolded irritably. "How could it have been a farce?"

_**A tale of beauty and the beast, I defend my soul from those who would accuse me... I share the famine and the feast... I have been the world and felt it turning; seen the jester yearning to amuse me... **_

He glared at her as though she was somehow responsible. Abruptly, the fire drained from him and collapsed on the bed. "Cox," he mumbled, "Raines- they arranged it. It was their doing. I got an invitation to my own wedding, which I knew nothing about. I was told where to be and what to do. That was it. I didn't even know who the 'bride' was until I saw you walk down the aisle."

"Is that why you didn't want to tell me about our wedding?" She was close to him once again.

"Yes," he confirmed, but something in his tone suggested to her that there was more to it than that. However, she let it go for the time being.

"What would be the point?"

Lyle shook his head dejectedly. "I don't know."

She nodded and fell silent for a while. Then she spoke again. "What happened after we left the gas station."

A deep, distressed sigh racked his body. "I drove us to Atlantic City," his voice was barely above a whisper." And found a place that did quickie weddings. You were really out of it, so..."

"I see," she said, understanding his motives, but baffled by the way he reacted; it seemed so irrational and extreme.

Lyle stood again and began to pace.

_**Like a circus on parade- seldom close enough to see... I wander through an angry crowd and wonder what became of me... **_

Anxiously, she watched his erratic gait as he crossed the floor back and forth. His expression constantly cycled through a ranged of disturbed emotion.

"I didn't do anything to you," he said suddenly in a strange, thick voice. "I didn't touch you or do anything like that."

She frowned and started to assure him that she never thought he did, but he rambled on before she could get a word in.

"No, no, no. I didn't. No matter what they say, I didn't. They're lying- I didn't do anything."

"Who says, B-"

"Anyone!" he ground out emphatically. After a beat he went on in a calmer tone. "No, I understand that you're angry and you want out. I'd want out, too, if I was married to me. I understand. We'll get an annulment right away- as soon as we get back to Blue Cove."

He went on and on like this for a long time. Amelia sat back in the bed and worriedly watched him agonize as he responded and defended himself to unverbalized accusations and questions. As he went on in inconsequential jogs, memories began to tumble loose.

"..._Lyle?" Mia stood in the bedroom doorway, sleepily rubbing her eyes. "I heard a noise… are you okay?"_

"_Yeah, fine," he said shortly without looking at her. "Just having a loving conversation with my father."_

_His sarcasm was not lost on the sleepy redhead. She watched him pace for a while, then sitting and standing again, and finally sitting again on the edge of the reclining chair. She softly walked over to him and sat on the coffee table tucking her legs underneath her._

"_I take it your not on very good terms with your dad."_

_He looked at her through narrowed eyes and did not answer right away._

"_You could say that," he said finally. And he did not say more._

"_Oh." Mia fingered the fresh hole in the right knee of her jeans and pulled at the frayed edges. They sat in the gloomy silence for a long while. He watched her with a veiled gaze; he had no intention of discussing his past with her- the less she knew the better- but it made him uneasy when she seemed to take it so personally. Sitting Indian-style on the coffee table in front of him, she was hidden almost completely from his sight by the cloak of hair that surrounded and enclosed her like curtains. His gaze fell to her fingers that fidgeted with her jeans._

_Suddenly, a hand trapped her fingers. She looked up curiously at him._

"_Stop," he said and collapsed back against his chair._

_She pursed her lips together in a thin line and folded her hands in her lap._

"_Stop that," he snapped fiercely._

"_What?" she looked confused._

"_That…that pitiful look. I'm getting sick of it!"_

"_Sorry," she mumbled. His criticism only made the forlorn look worse._

_He was immensely uncomfortable with her in close proximity. Typically, when he felt like he did, usually he dealt with it by lashing out at whatever unfortunate thing happen to be nearby. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to quell the urge to grab her and do something he might regret._

_Regret…feh… what would one more regret be? I've got a lifetime of them… His body trembled with manic laughter as he fought to keep it silent._

"_So hear from your old man much?" It was a stupid question asked in bad-tempered, disagreeable tone. He was surprise that she actually answered him._

"_I can't remember."_

_Of course, she can't remember! What an idiot you are!_

_She stretched out her legs and slipped over to the couch, staring at him over the arm._

"_Tell me about your family."_

_And so he told her about his family. But the truth was so intertwined with invention in what he told her that it was doubtful that Lyle himself could distinguish fact from fiction. And it wasn't a sob story he gave her either, at least not at first. He attempted using the technique that usually best achieved what he wanted and that technique was fear. He told her horror story after horror story about his childhood and adulthood, making sure to expound on the most gruesome details. He even went so far to completely expose his warped hand in the same manner that always sent Broots scurrying into hiding. And for the first time in his memory, fear failed him. He was the one sent running for cover when he displayed his hand and she cradled it in hers, running her fingertips over the scar. Naturally, he made sure that his demeanor stayed intact and she did not see how badly that simple gesture rattled him. She thought she had hurt him by the way he jerked away from her; she apologized profusely and seemed on the verge of crying until he assured her he was fine._

_Her unorthodox responses to his tactics meant that he had no way of predicting her actions that left him feeling that he wasn't in control of the situation. He hated not being in control._

_There was one thing he could control, however, and that was her perception of Miss Parker and Jarod. He was meticulous in his tale about them, making absolutely sure that by the time he was finished with his story, she had nothing but dislike and malice for his twin and the Pretender. That partnered with her compassion for him only solidified her allegiance to him..._

_...She woke up in a fog due to someone shaking her. She resisted waking up, but the shaking was persistent._

"_Mia, get up," Lyle's voice seemed a thousand miles away._

"_What?" she slurred, struggling to sit up and still half-asleep. "Did they find us?"_

"_No," he said. "Just get up. I need to ask you some questions."_

_She yawned and blinked several times. "Ask me what?"_

"_What happened while we were separated?"_

_She frowned as the memory was hazy. "It was really strange," she said after awhile. "I remember waking up underwater in tub."_

_This caught his attention. He crashed next to her on the couch, gazing at her intently. "Underwater?"_

_She flushed, embarrassed by how ridiculous it sounded. "Yeah, uh, when I got out of the tub I remember when I looked down at my wet clothes I saw a broken syringe on the floor…"_

"_What else?"_

_She proceeded to tell him everything she could remember. He listened without interrupting, growing more and more disturbed. Then, suddenly, his face contorted in agony. A low growl escaped through clenched teeth._

"_The case," he choked out. "Get the black case."_

_Mercifully, her memory did not fail and she was able to recall what he was talking about. She fumbled in the briefcase for the syringes while his groans of anguish increased._

_His condition wasn't so deteriorated that he couldn't administer the injection to himself and she found that she had to look away when he did. He improved immediately._

"_That's the syringe," she told him as her eyes lit with recognition._

"_Huh?"_

_She reached over and tapped the hypodermic needle. "That's just like one I found in the bathroom when I woke up."_

_He stared at her. "Are you sure?"_

"_Yeah. Why do you have to take them?"_

_He turned the syringe over in his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "I've had to take them since I was fifteen. If I don't… well you saw happened before…"_

"_What happens if you stop taking them?"_

_He just looked at her. Her eyes widened. "Oh…" she breathed. "Wow… and no one's ever told you why?"_

_He shook his head. "Withholding crucial information is a way to exert control."_

"_What's that suppose to mean?"_

"_Nothing," he said, looking away from her._

_They sat in silence until he broke it with an outlandish question._

"_Do you believe in shame?"_

_She gave him a funny look. "Yeah. At least, I think so."_

_He appeared to mull this over. "I'm not sure I do." He said nothing for a long while. Then he did something he wasn't suppose to do… he told her about his job… and the Centre, those little details he had conveniently left out earlier._

"_Why would they want me?" She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear her._

"_I'm just beginning to figure that out."_

"_Did I do it?" she asked despondently. "Did I kill those people?"_

_He found it difficult to meet her eyes, so he locked his gaze on the coffee table. "Yes," he replied coarsely, massaging his left hand absently. "Most likely. It's my guess that the Centre's created you to be an assassin. But I'm not sure."_

_Her eyes filled with tears that brimmed over and dripped onto her sweater. "It's all been a lie," she whispered in despair. She felt as though her world collapsed. "Everything…I'm a…no…no…" She turned and buried her face in a pillow, but she didn't sob and her breathing remained even. After a while, she felt a hand on her shoulder and then she fell into darkness._..

_**To work it out I let them in- all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been... All the devils that disturbed me and the angels that defeated them somehow, come together in me now **..._

* * *

"Do you really think Lyle's taken her to the Cabins o' Love to, you know," Broots looked anxiously at Sydney.

The doctor shrugged. "That I don't know, Broots. Though, in a way, I doubt it. Given Lyle's protectiveness of her as well as his past actions where she is concerned, it doesn't make sense that he wouldhurt her now, if at all."

"I wouldn't put it past baby brother," Parker chimed in as she walked into the room. "Clearly she has some sort of information that he wants. Once he gets, he won't have any use for her anymore."

Broots shuddered and frowned. 'Gosh, I hope we can get to Mia in time. I kind of like her. It's too bad the Centre and Lyle got to her- she seemed really nice and sweet..."

"Yeah and so does a Rottweiler before it attacks you," Parker snorted scornfully. "Let's not forget the purpose of Project Heptagon, okay? She's just as unpredictable as Lyle."

"But Jarod's Antidote-" Broots reminded her.

"We're going to assume that it didn't work- a theory I know Syd's not fond of, but better safe than sorry." She turned her icy gaze on the doctor. "Right, Syd."

"Whatever you say, Miss Parker," he agreed with only a note of exasperation in his voice.

"Good. Let's get going then."

* * *

"You didn't see the look on your face." Lyle was on the bed again lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, his fingers absently entwining themselves in Amelia's hair. "You were terrified and begging Cox not make you go through with it."

She sighed and turned closer to him, settling her head on his chest. A slight frown marring her features. The nightmare that had been troubling her night after was now being vividly described from a different perspective.

"And you weren't just afraid," he went on saturninely. "You were afraid of me. You kept pleading with Cox not to make you marry me. You... I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I just don't remember any of it," she said softly.

"Yeah, I know."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I guess."

"Why didn't you just tell me all of this? I would have understood."

He did not answer right away. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I just didn't want see that look on your face again." And that was all he would say on the matter.

They laid in silence after that and soon Amelia felt his breathing even out and deepen. She held him tighter and sighed. There were still so many questions left and so many new ones that had sprung up after this weird turn of events. She didn't completely follow his logic for drugging her so they could be legally married or why he wasn't honest with to begin with. In the nether region of her psyche a small grain of doubt voiced itself and she wondered if she shouldn't be afraid of him. Pushing the doubt aside, she snuggled against him even more and tried to sleep. But soon, she was disturbed by faint muttering.

She lifted her head slightly and considered him inquisitively. He was talking in his sleep; not typical speaking, but strange utterings that went back and forth between past and present and everywhere in between. She laid her back down, but instead of sleeping she listened.

**_When you close your eyes and go to sleep and it's down to the sound of a heartbeat... I can hear the things  
that you're dreamin' about... When you open up your heart and the truth comes out..._**

_**I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...**_

_**When I hold you in my arms at night don't you know you're sleeping in the spotlight...  
And all your dreams that you keep inside; you're telling me the secrets that you just can't hide... **_

I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep...

When you close your eyes and you fall asleep... Everything about you is a mystery...

**_I hear the secrets that you keep when you're talking in your sleep_**...

* * *

Sunlight danced through the leaves of the trees in the forest surrounding the Cabins O' Love in the early morning hours. The peaceful awakening of a new day was rudely disrupted by the door of Cabin 77 being kicked in.

"All right, Lyle, I know you're here!" Parker's gun was cocked and ready for action.

There was no response to her exclamation.

"Looks like we missed them," Sydney announced after quickly looking over the room.

"No kidding," Parker snapped pettishly, though she wasn't annoyed with him so much as her brother. "Great!"

Another wasted trip with nothing to show for: no Lyle, no Amelia, and not a word from Jarod. It was the latter that troubled her the most.


	18. Union of the Snake Part 1

_AN: My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up. I had all four wisdom teeth out on the 6th and it's taken awhile to get back into the writing groove. And school has started again with a heavy course load so that may delay updates as well and is why this chapter is so short- my sincere apologies for that! I've also done some fooling around this previous chapters and combined chapters that were broken down into parts. Content hasn't changed; I just wanted to cut down on bulk._

_Many thanks to all who are reviewing. Please keep those reviews comin'._

_**NYT**: I'm afraid I can't maintain that precedent. Lol Lyle's confusion is about to worsen as Cox returns._

_**Imag1ne:** Ah, yes, Jarod... still nursing that hand Lyle damaged earlier I would assume. Whatever he's doing, he's about to upset Miss Parker's world again. ;)_

_**LJP**: While there certainly will be a few deaths by story's end I guess we'll just have to wait and see whose corpses actuallyturn up. ;)_

_**Gemini:** And even if he could control it, the Centre isn't exactly in the business of making happy endings. Just think of Thomas... ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 15: Union of the Snake Part I**

"Miss Parker?"

Parker looked up from her work sharply to see the Centre's resident computer whiz letting himself in.

"What?" the word hissed lazily through her teeth.

Broots kept his back against the door with a nervous look on his face.

"Lyle's back."

_It's about time he slithered out of the woodwork._

"And?"

Broots shrugged. "And that's about it. He got back to the Centre about an hour ago and went straight to his office. No one's seen him since."

Parker said nothing as she went back to her work. After a moment, she heard a light cough as Broots cleared his throat- obviously he wasn't finished.

She growled and returned her attention to him. "_What._"

"Lyle isn't the only one back." His pallor whitened further as he forced himself to deliver the bad news his boss.

"Out without, Broots," she snapped impatiently.

"Cox is back."

"Cox is back?"

"Yes, and he wants to see you." The man looked thoroughly apologetic. "Right now... in your father's office."

Parker stood abruptly. "Why?"

"I don't know, Miss Parker. I was just told to get you."

She closed her eyes briefly, then cleared the papers from her desk. "All right. Fine. Broots, get Sydney and the two of you keep looking for Jarod while I deal with... _this_."

Broots cringed. "I can't, Miss Parker."

She arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I can't work with Sydney, I mean," the technician clarified. "He's been called to your father's office, too."

Without a word Parker left the room, leaving Broots to search for Jarod alone.

* * *

The short, crisp click of high heels on tile echoed down the hall, but did not register with him. He had more important matters on his mind- like why Cox was back so soon. 

He arrived at his father's office and stood before the closed door for a second as he collected himself. At the same instant that his hand grasped the door handle so did a another.

Lyle glanced up aggressively and found himself glaring into eyes that weremirror images of his own.

Simultaneously, the twins hissed at each other.

"You," they spat contemptuously at one another in hushed tones.

"Well," Lyle was the first to speak independently. "I guess I know now why we got called to Dad's office- you failure to bring Jarod in."

Parker's eyes narrowed to deadly slits. "I highly doubt that's the reason," she riposted. "This is probably about your little extracurricular diversion to the Cabins O' Love."

His countenance darkened considerably, yet was unreadable. "Get out of my way. I have a meeting to attend."

"So do I. You move."

The bickering continued under breath for a minute or more until Lyle managed to shoulder Parker out of the way and open the door.

All squabbling was laid aside when they saw the grim visage of their father sitting behind his desk. Equally vitriolic was Raines on his left. Sydney stood to the right of Mr. Parker with a hand over his mouth and an amused twinkle in his eyes. Next to Raines, Gogo watched Lyle assiduously. And then in the center of everything stood the leering Mr. Cox.

At that moment, the twins would have liked nothing better than to wipe that obnoxious grin off the face of the opprobrious man.

"Miss Parker, Mr. Lyle," he stretched out his arms to them with faux cheeriness. "How good of you to join us." He paused long enough for the siblings to glance uncertainly at each other, then his gaze blackened and the smile disappeared. "Instead of remaining outside of the door squabbling like children!"

Mr. Parker glared reproachfully at his embarrassed offsprings.

"This meeting," Cox went on gravely, "is not about either of you or your shortcomings, though a future meeting just might be." He turned his focus to the rest of the room. "This is about a rather serious event that occurred while I was in Africa investigating Mutumbo's murder." He shot the word accusingly at Mr. Parker. The Centre Chairman did not so much as blink.

Parker dared to look over at her brother who looked as curious as she felt. She snapped her attention back to Cox when she heard the man speak again.

"Someone," his eyes were still riveted to Mr. Parker, but as he spoke then moved to Raines and settled on the twins, "or someone_s _assassinated Mutumbo's family. And I don't mean just his wife and children. I mean his wife, children, his children's spouses, grandchildren, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Everyone. Dead. The entire known lineage." He surveyed his shocked audience with delight.

Raines glanced worriedly at Mr. Parker, clearly upset by the announcement. Mr. Parker's frown deepened, but he did not appear surprised.

Lyle tipped his head ever so slightly in Parker's direction and caught her eye. They looked at each for a long moment, then Lyle raised an eyebrow. Parker faintly shook her head. A connection was established between the two for the fleetest of moments, gone quicker than it came.

They glared at each other.

It wasn't until they broke eye contact and saw their father's disapproving glare that they realized Cox was speaking again. Parker sighed aloud and Lyle groaned. The noises were barely audible, but they drew the speaker's attention anyway.

"I'm sorry," Cox's voice oozed with sarcasm and malice, "am I boring the two of you?" He began to circle the twins predatorily. "Because if I am, then perhaps I can change that. A T-board might interest you more?"

Parker, who had always found the man nauseating, unconsciously took a step toward her brother to put more distance between herself and Cox. She was about to retort nastily, but Lyle beat her to it.

"No, sir. I-" he glanced at Parker in warning, "_We_ apologize; we're simply weary from," he paused briefly as he fumbled for a plausible excuse. "Searching for Jarod. It's been more maddening than usual."

Cox eyed him suspiciously, then Parker, and nodded, seemingly buying the lie.

"I'm not going to repeat myself," he said, turning brusquely on the twins. "I would be very scrupulous in what I do until this investigation is over if I were you. All of you. At this point everyone is suspect."

With a final glance of disgust at those around him, he spun on his heel to exit. When he was gone, Parker rolled her eyes dramatically and sneered, "What a-"

"_Angel_," Mr. Parker growled. He stood and walked around to the front of the desk. "Despite this little investigation of Cox's, nothing is to change. Nothing."

They nodded in comprehension, though Raines looked to be in an argumentative mood.

"All right," the chairman said in dismissal, "That's all."

Parker and Lyle were the first to the door.

"Except for you two."

Sydney flashed Parker an entertained grin. She turned her back on him in response.

"I'm not sure what's gotten into the two of you lately," Mr. Parker began unhappily. "But it had better end. I can't leave with the two of you like this."

"Leaving?" Parker cut in, upset. "Where?"

"Don't you worry about that, Angel," he replied dismissively. "The important thing is that you and your brother stick together. It's imperative that you do. Especially with Cox taking over."

"What?" It was Lyle's turn to gawk at their father. "Cox taking over? What does that mean?"

Mr. Parker frowned at his son. "It's only temporary- while the investigation is going on. He'll take my place while I'm gone."

"Where are you going?" both progenies demanded vehemently.

"Not important." Mr. Parker drew his children close to him in side embraces. "What's important is that the two of work together. Trust no one but each other. Protect the Parker legacy, hm?"

"So that's it?" Parker snapped angrily. "You're not going tell us what's going on at all, are you?"

Mr. Parker blinked as though he didn't understand why she was so disconcerted. "I'll be back soon, don't you worry, Angel."

And with that he was gone.

* * *

The swearing began as soon as the elder Parker left the room. 

"What you do you know about this?" Parker demanded of her brother as shegrabbed him by the jacket lapels.

"I could ask you the same thing," he retorted, slapping her hands away.

"You're a liar."

Lyle glared at her resentfully. "Oh, yeah, and you're such a saint."

Parker advanced on him, forcing him to back up. "Whenever Daddy starts talking about family and about us sticking together, it's usually because something big is about to blow up."

"And so you automatically assume that if it does I'm involved." Lyle's back was up against a wall... literally. His expression was unreadable, but below the calm exterior churned a rage that was ready to boil over.

Parker ground her teeth together in fury. "I know you're involved in this, Lyle," she spat. "I just don't know how yet."

Lyle clenched his teeth, barely able to restrain himself from pushing back at her the way she continued to push him. If she didn't stop jabbing him...

"Fine, fine, you caught me," he admitted sarcastically with over-exaggerated gestures. "I was involved all right. Yes, itwas my deviuosplotting to put Cox in charge of the Centre." His dramatics turned angry as he shouted, "To put Cox in the position that is rightfully mine!" He added a few choice expletives before lapsing into stony silence.

Parker growled at him. "I don't believe you."

Lyle rolled his eyes. "Do you really think I care?"

It could have and should have ended there, but Parker was in a pugnacious mood- partly out ofuncertainty ofherposition with her father's departure, partly out fear, and mostly out of loathing for her twin.Taking a step back, she folded her arms over her chest with a snarky gleam in her eyes."So," she drawled with a misanthropic smirk, "how'd the honeymoon go?"

Her brother's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

The smirk widened. "I'll admit that I was shocked to hear about the wedding. And even more shocked to learn that you're bride isn't a corpse," she paused to gauge his reaction- hewas turning red with fury. "Or wasn't. That may have changed since honeymooning at the Cabins O' Love. 'Til death do you part', isn't it?"

"Shut up, Parker." His tone was cool, clear, and dangerous.

"What did you do to convince this one to marry you, huh?"

"Shut. Up. Parker."

"Will Daddy and I be getting a wedding announcement or an obituary?"

Lyle suddenly jumped toward, ready to strike, when he abruptly stopped and collected himself. With a sneer as nasty as her own, Lyle stared her down. "My wife is very much alive," he said pointedly and politely. "And your cynicism toward courtship and marriage I can forgive." He flashed her a grin of benevolence and stepped around her. "Thomas was a smart man after all- he would have come to his senses before taking on the ball and chain that marriage to you would have been. No man would subject himself to _that._" He turned to face her again with a disdainful arrogance. "I don't expect that you'll _ever_ understand marriage."

A deep agony and anger flared in his sister's eyes and too late did Lyle realize he had taken things too far. A sharp, blistering thwack stung his cheek where she slapped him, leaving him stupefied. By the time he regained his senses, she was gone.

Sullen, he left their father's office, stomping blindly through the exit. He was barely out of the office when he ran into Gogo who seemed to have been lying in wait for him.

Gazing up at him coyly through thick black lashes, she reached out for the hand covering his injured face.

"Your sister is a violent type, isn't she?" the girl remarked, sweetly.

Lyle grunted something less than flattering about Parker, not particularly in a sociable mood.

"She left quite a mark." Gogo pressed up against him, much to his annoyance.

"Nothing that won't heal," he muttered, attempting to move around her.

"I can take care of you, she murmured suggestively, running a sharp nail down his jaw and neck.

He paused, ostensibly considering the suggestion, before storming away, angrier that before.

Gogo watched him go, not at all offended by the rejection: he may have refused, but he did hesitate before doing so.

She smiled satisfactorily- it was a beginning that would lead to his end.


	19. Interlude: Ragazzo Solo, Ragazza Sola

_AN: I'm sorry it took so long to update. The art section of my methods of teaching fine arts class swamped me with homework for the first month of classes. Now that we're in the music area, I should be able to update more frequently. Because it's been so long I wanted to give you guys something even though it is short. This little snippet was originally the beginning of the second part of Union of the Snake. Hope you like. :) Keep those reviews comin', please. ;)_

_**Alexceasar:** Thank you so much for the kind reviews and welcome aboard! Original characters are always tricky to introduce so I'm very pleased that you like Mia. I'm also glad that you like this interpretation of Lyle. I could never believe he was quite as soulless as many believe; after all he is Catherine Parker's son and a victim of the Centre as much, perhaps more, than Parker. As bad as he is in this series, I can't help feeling bad for him knowing what lies ahead of him... ;)_

_**KoolCaz**: Yeah, they sure do hurt. I'm glad it's all over with. And I'm glad you like the Parker twins dynamic. Look for more of it._

_**NYT: **Indeed they are! As for Parker, we may never know and Lyle will have his moments. ;-)_

_**LJP**: For most men a psycho wife probably would guarantee their fidelity, but then Lyle isn't most men..._

* * *

**Interlude: Ragazzo Solo, Ragazza Sola**

_Home_.

Normally, being home gave her a semblance of peace; a sanctuary of sort, away from the walls of the Centre. Home, however, was not where she wanted to be- at least not alone.

She sighed heavily, staring out of the rain-streaked window at the dark yard in front of her house. Though the room she stood in was comfortably warm, she still shivered. Lightening illuminated her face, briefly exposing the tears that threatened to fall.

When a loud crack of thunder made the house shuddered, she didn't flinch. Yet she jumped abruptly when the phone rang.

"What?" she snapped laconically into the receiver as she tried calm her nerves.

"It's a dark and stormy night isn't it, Miss Parker?"

She sighed again, this time in irritation. "What do you want, Jarod? I am not in the mood to play your games."

There was the briefest of pauses on the other end of the line before the Pretender responded. "Is everything all right?"

"Is anything ever all right?" she continued staring out of the window, this time with a purpose- she had the distinct feeling he was very near.

"Rumor has it your father is leaving town."

"Yes," she breathed as the subject she was trying not to think about was broached. "Do you have any insight as to where he's going?"

"No," Jarod said, sounding truly contrite that he had nothing to tell her. "I was calling to see what's going at the Centre."

"You mean you don't know?" Surprise overcame sarcasm in her tone.

"No." She could almost hear him wince. "I'm still... recovering from my last encounter with Lyle."

"Are you all right?"

Out of habit, Jarod nearly came back with a tart retort, but something in her voice alerted him to the rather enervated state she was in, and he did not wish to upset her more.

"Yes," he reassured her. "My left hand got the worst of it, but almost completely healed." He paused, wondering if he should just leave it there. "Thank you for asking."

The other end of the line was so still that Jarod wasn't sure she was still there.

"Daddy is gone," she finally said abjectly. "And Cox is taking his place."

"Cox?" The Pretender was undoubtably stunned. "Not Lyle?"

"No. And baby brother is not happy about that."

"I can imagine," Jarod breathed. "What's changed that would have put Cox in charge? Somehow that seems even more dangerous than Lyle running the Centre."

Parker filled the Pretender in on the fate of Mutumbo's family and the disturbing conversation with her father with peculiar impassivity

"What was Lyle's reaction?"

"He claims no knowledge of what's going on. Somehow I doubt he's really been shut out- especially since Cox is involved.."

Jarod didn't say anything right away as he began putting the bits and pieces of information together.

Parker chewed on her bottom as her brother's cutting remark came to her unbidden.

"Lyle's married," she blurted out, regretting the words as soon as they her mouth.

"Oh?" Jarod hesitated to say more. There was something so curious in her voice as though there was something encrypted in her words.

"Yes," she went on, that strangeness still coiled around her throat. "To Amelia."

"That is a little strange," he commented cautiously.

"She doesn't remember anything, Jarod. Lyle had her visit Sydney- she was the new patient he couldn't talk about."

Though he had many questions, he didn't pursue them. "What else?" he queried gently. He felt she was on the verge of confiding in him and did not want to upset her by saying something stupid or wrong.

"Lyle said..." she paused, pressing her finger against her lips. She watched the gleam in the rainy reflection in the window from her mother's ring.

Jarod was barely breathing. The connection between them was as delicate as a spider's web; a careless word or inattentive tone would break the link. And he feared he might never regain it.

"What did Lyle say?"

"Lyle said that Tommy," her voice broke on the name, "that Tommy would have come to his senses before marrying me. He said..."

The pain in her voice was almost more than he could bare. The tears that slipped down her cheeks almost made him step out from his hiding place.

She drew in a shaky breath. "He said that no one would ever want to marry me."

"Oh, Parker," Jarod exhaled softly. "That's not true. He was only saying that to hurt you. Clearly, he accomplished his objective. Don't believe it... it's not true."

"But what if it is?"

"It's not!" he told her passionately. "Stop thinking that way."

There was a long moment of silence before she spoke again.

"Jarod, have you ever-" A sudden hardness flashed into Parker's eyes as her brow furrowed in irritation. Her jaw tightened.

"What?" he asked, worried by the abrupt change in her demeanor. The warm he had been feeling was instantly replaced by a bone shaking chill.

"No," she laughed scornfully, more at herself than him. "No, of course, you haven't thought about that."

"Parker-?" But it was useless to say more.

She hung up on him, discarded the phone carelessly on the couch, and returned to staring blankly out of the window.

Her finger pressed against her lips once more as she shook her head reproachfully at what she had almost done, almost said. Before she could weaken to the point where she voiced her inner most thoughts to him, the memory of the last time that nearly occurred came back to remind her what a foolish thing that would be to do. She was glad she had remembered that voice- Zoe's voice...

She ignored his further attempts to reach her and, after the third try, the phone stopped ringing.

Woeful and angry with himself for whatever he had done to offend her, Jarod watched her for a long while before letting himself out through the back door.

Somewhere a Pretender sighed.


	20. Union of the Snake Part 2

_AN: I'm glad that everyone liked the little interlude- I just hate that it is taking so long to get things going. I guess because I already know what's going to happen, I feel the story is a bit sluggish at the moment. Ah, well, patience isn't my greatest virtue apparently. ;) Here's part two of Union of the Snake. While finishing this chapter up, my muse spent the majority of its time screaming, "Off with his head" at Cox. Hmmm... Perhaps you will be too. Lol_

_Enjoy. As always reviews are divine and those have been reviewing are angels. ;)_

_**LJP**: A good smack might do them both some good. Lol That little conversation will certainly be revisited down the road._

_**Imag1ne:** Wow, thank you for such a compliment! _

_**NYT:** No doubt Jarod will be putting a great deal of effort into figuring out what he's done. _

_I'm lucky that I have no observation hours this semester, but next fall I've got a mandatory 48 that I have to squeeze in somehow along with five other classes, and then a lovely full semester of student teaching. How did you get through it?_

_Lyrics by Garbage_

* * *

**Union of the Snake Part 2**

Lyle glared heinously at the man who sat behind his father's desk as he took a seat across from him. The man, untroubled by the black look, grinned triumphantly at the former-Chairman's son.

"You do know why you're here- don't you, Mr. Lyle?"

The younger man cleared his countenance and shrugged as though he could care less. "I assume it's about the Project I've been assigned."

Cox nodded affirmatively. "Indeed it is. I trust all is going well."

"Yes, of course."

"And I trust," Cox raised a suspicious brow, "that you haven't done anything stupid with her."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Lyle's mouth. He held the other man's gaze with a hint of defiance. "Define stupid."

Immediately put off by Lyle's disrespectful demeanor, Cox returned Lyle's smirk with his own nasty glower. He ignored the snarky retort and went on. "Training sessions are to resume first thing tomorrow morning. She is to be in uniform, and to have fasted for a six hour period beforehand." He waved a dismissive hand at Lyle. "That is all for now, Mr. Lyle. You may go."

However he may have been goaded that Cox summoned and dismissed him like a common servant, Lyle showed no sign of this on his visage. And he did not move.

"What is the name of the Project?"

It was not a question, but a demand, and it caught Cox unaware. He glanced up sharply and peered at the Under Director through narrowed eyes. "Heptagon," he snarled shortly. "Just as it always has been."

"There is no Heptagon anymore," Lyle shot back forcefully. "What's the name of the Project?"

"That is none of your concern."

"It is when it involves my wife."

Cox gaped at him in stunned silence for a long moment. He held that moment for he was certain the concern Lyle seemed to have regarding Ameliawas in jest- this was, after all, a man who cared about no one but himself. After a time, he saw that Lyle was dead serious.

The laughter began.

Lyle stared disgustedly at the laughing man. He began to tremble as every muscle in his body constrained and madness sped through his arteries. The laughter reverberated in his skull as other voices joined in ridiculing him. He wondered what difference it would make if he crushed the miserable life out the ribald man right then and there. No one he knew would mourn Cox's demise.

Then he remembered the other man's intimate ties with the Triumvirate. Cox's termination would undoubtedly result in his own.

"You really have bought into this little play, haven't you, Mr. Lyle?" Cox wiped at the corner of his eyes as the merriment bubbled out once more. Once he had calmed a bit, he added, "You really are serious about the vows you took that day, aren't you? So sentimental and here, all this time, everyone had you pegged for heartless S.O.B."

The chuckling continued unabated until, unable to restrain himself any further, Lyle jumped across the desk and pinned Cox against the opposite wall, cutting off the flow ofoxygen to the laughing man's air pipe. Thoroughly enthralled with the anticipation of watching the animation slowly and painfully seeped from him, it was a struggle for Lyle to regain control of himself. Just as Cox was turning a curious shade of reddish-purple, Lyle released him and returned to his chair on other side of the desk as though nothing had happened. Besides, there were far more excruciating ways to die- asphyxiation was far too merciful a way for Cox to go.

Cox, once he was able to breath normally again, now had further reason to hate the man across him. He took his anger out on his tie as he straightened it.

"You will regret that, Mr. Lyle," he murmured under his breath. Louder he announced, "If she was truly your wife, then perhaps you might have right to know, but as the marriage was not a legal one, you don't. So you can shove this caring husband bit back wherever you got it."

This revelation had no impact on Lyle, much to Cox's surprise and ire.

Lyle merely shrugged.

"Yes," he acknowledged smugly, "the marriage arranged by the Centre was not legal. That has since been remedied."

"What?" The word dropped from Cox's mouth like batter onto a hot skillet.

The smirk returned to lips of the Mr. Parker's son and with purposeful deliberateness he removed a folded document from an interior jacket pocket. He flicked it at Cox.

"A legal, binding contract," he simpered proudly. Once again, he had the upper hand.

Cox said nothing. His scalding blue eyes scanned the document thoroughly. When he was finished, he folded the paper again and tore it in half, not once but four times.

"Doesn't matter," Lyle commented cooly. "That's just a copy. The original is locked away where the Centre hounds can't get to it."

Cox clenched his teeth and snarled. "Fine," he snipped off each word aggressively. "The name of the Project is ARES."

Lyle nodded self-satisfied. "That's all I wanted to know."

Cox watched with consuming detest as the younger man took his leave. Lyle may have gained the name of the Project, but he would soon forget it.

He was not about to let this transgression go without penitence of some sort.

* * *

_**I'm only happy when it rains... **_

He left his meeting with Cox with a strange feeling lingering upon his shoulders. Something Cox had said was deeply disturbing.

"_Heptagon. Just as it always has been."_

How did Cox know of Heptagon? And why, after the careful removal of the existence of the original Heptagon, would they retain the name of a Project they wanted erased?

_Unless..._

_**I'm only happy when it's complicated...**_

Lyle tried to sleep on it, hoping rest would clarify his mind and help him figure out the significance of Cox's statement. Sleep, as usual, eluded him most of the night.

_Unless... Unless... Unless what?_

Drowning out the jeering voices with sound of rushing water from the shower, he reviewed his knowledge of Heptagon and Dominatus and those involved. The recap offered little as he could not remember Cox's involvement in the original project.

_Unless... Unless.._

Lyle stared at his image in the bathroom mirror without seeing himself. Slowly, the light of realization dawned in his eyes.

Unless Cox didn't know what he knew about Heptagon!

He grimaced. Raines would have informed Cox, wouldn't he? Raines' absence was yet another puzzling mystery. Was one connected to the other?

Turning away from the mirror, he meticulously tidied up the bathroom. The first thing he saw when he entered his bedroom was an unmade bed and Amelia's nightgown tossed carelessly across the sheets.

Grunting in annoyance at the less than neat bed, he snatched the silky camisole off the bed and was about to toss it into the clothes hamper when something gave him pause. He wasn't sure what that something was- whether it was the light, airy texture of the material or the scent of lilac that surrounded it. He frowned.

_**And though I know you can't appreciate it- I'm only happy when it rains...**_

She was his wife, he had told Cox. By making the marriage legal, he taken back some of the power Cox had usurped from him. But what good did that do him? It was all being undone and voided in a matter of hours.

He hated having to kowtow Cox of all people- he couldn't understand what the Triumvirate was thinking or plotting even. Something else that perturbed him was how silent the Triumvirate was being through all this. They spoke through Cox and Cox alone. They would not even speak to his father directly, and Lyle had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Parker's sudden absence might have something to with that. ****

You know I love it when the news is bad and why it feels so good to feel so sad...

The sound of water running in the kitchen caught his attention and reminded him that Amelia was up. She had said little when he informed her the night before that her visits to Cox were to resume and gave her the instructions Cox had given him. She had been distant since returning from the rather disastrous trip to West Virginia. Perhaps not physically, but mentally she was worlds away.

He rubbed the silken material between thumb and forefinger, his lips pursed into a tight line. It was terribly unsettling how bothered he was by the impending annulment. It should not matter one way or the other. Marriage had never been particularly appealing to him, not even when he was wed to Shei Lin, but the dissolution of this one had him vexed. Briefly, he entertained the thought of not taking her to Cox and what repercussions that would bring, but dismissed the idea quickly- Amelia or no Amelia, his appetite for power had never relented and he was not about to jeopardize his position further by going against the current Centre Chairman.**_  
_**

**_Pour your misery down on me... I'm only happy when it rains... I feel good when things are going wrong... I only listen to the sad, sad songs..._**

He flicked the garment into the hamper and started to the leave room when he turned back at the last moment. If he didn't take care of that bed immediately it would gnaw at his thoughts all day. He did _not_ need something else to worry about.

He found her in the living room arranging the some new interior decor. His apartment was beginning to look like a Tuscan villa and a little too homey for his liking. However, he did not share that thought with her.

"Amelia."

If she heard him, she ignored him and continued setting up the Majolica ceramics on the mantle above the entertainment center. Her entire face was scrunched up in a rather unattractive grimace.

"_Amel-ia_," he called in a sing-song voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, growing more and more impatient.

There was no reply.

"Mia!"

She looked up, startled, as though she had been unaware of his presence.

"Is it time to go?" Her eyes fell to the floor as she tried to shove her hands into pockets that did not exist in the sleek black uniform she was required to wear.

He nodded, suddenly uncomfortable. "You haven't eaten anything, have you?" he asked gruffly.

"No," she whispered, looking ashen. She made an effort to move.

"Well, come on. We can't be late."

Obediently, she came to him, a grey version of her usually vibrant self. He sighed heavily.

"Come on, don't be like this," he said, almost pleadingly. "What's the big deal?"

She looked up at him with enormous eyes, but said nothing.

"What?"

"I don't like these 'sessions'," she admitted finally.

"It's not like anything bad is happening to you. I wouldn't let it," he responded lightly. In truth, he had no idea what was happening to her during her time with Cox.

"I'm just starting to remember, Bobby. I don't want to forget again."****

I only smile in the dark... My only comfort is the night gone black... I didn't accidentally tell you that I'm only happy when it rains...

"Yeah, well, some things can't be avoided," he muttered weakly, dropping his chin to his chest. After a moment, he lifted his chin again. "Look, I've got my eye on Cox. You'll be fine."

Amelia shrugged apathetically and followed him to the front door. As they passed the sofa table, Lyle paused. His eyes were riveted to a set of folded papers that set on the edge. There was an air of repulsion in the way he picked up the papers by their corner. He could feel a pair of gray eyes regarding him curiously.

"Make sure you sign these," he told her curtly, waving the document at her.

"What are they?"

He glared at her singularly. Hurt mixed with anger flared in his eyes. He locked that look onto her for some time before glancing away in embarrassment.

"Don't question me- just sign them when you get back." ****

You'll get the message by the time I'm through when I complain about me and you... You can keep me company as long as you don't care... You wanna hear about my new obsession? I'm riding high upon a deep depression... Pour some misery down on me...

* * *

"Eight o'clock on the dot. I am impressed, Mr. Lyle," Cox grinned at the dour man leading his prize Project through SL-24.

"In uniform and fasted six hours per your instructions," Lyle reported acerbically. "When should I pick her up?"

"You'll be notified." Cox turned to Amelia with a dashing smile. "Lovely to see you again, my dear."

Amelia glanced uncertainly at Lyle who would not meet her gaze.

"Do you remember me, Amelia?" Cox asked.

She shifted fearfully and pressed against Lyle for some sort of reassurance of which she received none. She shook her head "no".

"Splendid!" Cox clapped his hands together delightedly which served to further confuse the girl. He reached out to her and latched a cold hand onto her arm.

She twisted around to see her husband, silently begging him to intervene. But he would not look at her.

* * *

Once they were gone, Lyle tried to make a quick exit but a voice that sent a shudder through him called him back. 

"I am not through with you, Mr. Lyle."

Gone was the debonnaire facade, replaced by the man's true darkness. Lyle turned to face Cox and found himself surrounded by six sweepers that he could not recall ever seeing before.

"What's this all about?" he demanded, fighting to keep incertitude out of his voice.

Cox circled him rapaciously. "Do you really think that I would let your little display of rebellion earlier go?"

Lyle glared at him defiantly despite the uneasiness that had settled in his chest.

"I _will_ not tolerate any display of insubordination from you or anyone else!" With a crisp nod, Cox signaled to his sweepers to restrain the Under-Director.

The younger man was not so easily broken.

"You are _not_ in charge anymore, Mr. Lyle," he spat. "And Daddy isn't here to save you, either."

"Yeah," Lyle grinned dementedly. "What are you going to do about it? You don't have the power to remove me. There's only one person who can do that and it's not anyone from the Triumvirate."

"Good point," Cox relaxed a bit and seemed to consider what Lyle said. "Yes, Madame Director does seem to be in your corner... for the time being."

"Yes, _she_ is. Now tell your thugs to let go of me."

Cox shook his head and regarded the other man smugly. "I don't think so. You see, I don't believe removal is necessary. I think a trip to Cell 6 will suffice inbreaking this bad behaviour."

The blood drained from Lyle's face leaving it a ghostly pale. One ghost of a word escaped from his lips.

"No..."


	21. Darkness Falls Part 1

_AN: Oh, wow. How long has it been? Major apologies for the delay- I thought I'd get this done over Spring Break, but I spent that week on mid-term projects._

_This chapter, unfortunately, had to be broken down again. This piece is particularly short but I didn't want you all to think I had given up the story._

_Since school and work have so eaten away my time, I did actually consider just stopping altogether until summer so that I could better map out the story before writing any more. I decided against that because I probably would not have come back to it and I really want to finish it. So... please bare with me._

_Once again the plot is about to thicken and we'll learn what Jarod has really been up to all this time... well, we'll find out in the next part, anyway. _

_**Ace of Black Heart:** Thank you so much. I hope you'll like this next installment._

_**LJP:** It's been awhile since Tourniquet, I know, but the terror of Cell 6 lies within the prequel to Ashes. Don't despair about J and MP, they'll be back in force and forced together soon. Jarod resurfaces in this chapter. As far JMPR, we'll just have to see. And this may or may not be an LM fic. As for Mia, she still lacks memory of the majority of the happenings in Tourniquet, as well as understanding. Her fear of Cox is explored more in this chapter; it's easier for her to stand up to Lyle as she is at least somewhat familiar with him. Also, she probably realizes that she has some power over him due to the rather strange way he legalized their marriage and his subsequent reaction to her finding out about it._

_**Whashaza:** Thank you, thank you. :) _

_**KoolKaz**: Lyle and Mia want to know the same thing you do..._

_**NYT:** Thanks, I'm glad you liked the line- I'm trying to stay away from cliches as much as possible and that's the only thing I could up with. lol. Oh, and I owe you a reply email which I will get onto ASAP._

To Rem-Cycle: I'm not sure if you've had much time to do any reading or writing, but just in case- yes, I think you should do some more writing and post it or at least send it to me. Lol. Will email you ASAP.

_Many thanks to my readers and reviewers. Please continue to let me know what you think about Ashes._

* * *

**Chapter 16: Darkness Falls**_- Part I_

"**_Let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the darkness fall." - J.R.R. Tolkien_**

_The world was gray and cold. She listened to the silence that permeated the atmosphere. She could see nothing but the gray and feel nothing but the metallic coldness around her. A numbness encased all of her senses, giving her the peculiar sensation of being trapped in a dream bubble or perhaps paralysis. Yes, perhaps this what it was like to be completely paralyzed, deaf, and dumb._

_Then suddenly the bubble burst and fell away. _

_It was night still; the heavenly lights obscured by manmade ones that filled the city's skyline. The air was chilled and light breeze froze the atmosphere further. She found herself crouched on the roof of a large, wide building resembling a warehouse. Her consciousness did not comprehend how she got there or why, but the subconscious did and it threw her body into motion. _

_As she crept along the perimeter of the roof, a sharp crackle tickled her ear and an unfamiliar voice filled her head._

"_Move to your first position."_

_The coldness of the air increased as she kicked her pace up to a run. _

"_First team is in the target zone."_

_Thoroughly befuddled, her consciousness wailed for an explanation, but the subconscious, aggressively focused on its mission, paid it no heed._

"_You're clear, Retrieval. Move to your second position."_

_Her body secured itself to a system of ropes and pulleys and lowered itself through an unprotected sector of the roof. She dropped down through the ceiling and landed in front of four very surprised men standing guard over a large steel wall panel. Within a matter of seconds a gun was in her hand, pulled from a discreet pocket, and unloaded into the guards. Once at the wall panel, her fingers flew over the computer pad entering a numerical sequence into the control panel. It did not work._

"_Control, they changed the entry code!" Her voice sounded strange to her; dark and deep, not at all hers._

"_Fine," came the crisp, cool response. "Jack us in."_

_A few heart-stopping moments passed before the voice spoke again. "Now try."_

_Upon entering the code this time, a small concealed compartment revealed itself and presented three discs to her._

"_Got 'em!"_

"_Possession achieved," the voice confirmed. "Evacuate and Eliminate."_

_Light suddenly lit the area temporarily blinding her. When her vision cleared, she saw that she was no longer alone._

"_Retrieval?" the cool voice now sounded concerned._

"_I'm surrounded! In need of immediate egress!" _

"_Styx," the voice called. "Retrieval's under fire!"_

_She tried to run to, to save herself, but there were too many of them to flee. The last thing she saw was a petite, lithe figure enter the building. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Obsidian eyes glimmering cryptically at her. _

"_They've got her," Styx reported unconcerned. "Retrieval's gone gray."_

That was all there ever was to the memory which replayed in her mind over and over again no matter whether she was asleep or awake. Amelia pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed. Though drenched in sweat, she still felt chilled and pulled the bed cover tight around her. Leaning the back of her head against the headboard, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing, but the moment her lids closed the images returned.

Something had gone terribly wrong during that session with Cox. Never before had she returned from a session with him and retained any memory of what had occurred, but this time she did.

She would give anything to go back to not remembering.

While she could not recall what happened before or after the events in the new nightmare, she did recall two things distinctly: Cox's cold, blue flame eyes and the one called Styx.

Her vision of Styx was brief, but lasting. Those condescending, scornful black eyes were the eyes of Gogo. Amelia knew that regardless of what state of mind she had been in during the events of the memory, she was not confused on the identity of Styx.

_But why? Why? Why? Why? Why?_

She growled in frustration. _I hate her! I hate her! I hate this! I hate feeling like this. I hate not knowing, not remembering._

She made the mistake of closing her eyes again. Another pair of frightening eyes invaded her mind- the eyes that filled her with unspeakable terror; the eyes from the first repeating nightmare.

Unbidden that dream came flooding back.

_Two men stood on either side of her. The one breathing on her was tall and menacing and pulled something along behind him. She could not make out the features of his face. The one that held her so fiercely, too, was tall and dressed in lavish clothes all in black. His face was also indistinguishable though he was only inches away. All that was exposed was his eyes- his supercharged eyes of azure flames were such eyes that could bore through a person's soul; eyes that could kill. _

_The eyes crinkled into a sinister smile as the door opened._

_The breath of fire moved away from her throat and moved ahead of her through the door, dragging its ball and chain behind it. _

_The hand of the eyes that held her released her briefly only to clutch her arm tightly as it prepared to escort her through the door._

_Beyond the door was the heart of the malefic- a chamber from a gothic horror. It was into that nightmare they entered._

_The Requiem for the Dead played on._

_As the altar neared, she wished for all sorts of cataclysm to halt the terror she was about to be sacrificed to. But none came and she wished for death._

_At the dais, stood a woman dressed in crimson robes. Her face was obscured by darkness; only impeccably manicured nails on olive hands were visible. _

_Another figure stood on the woman's left facing her... the groom!_

_Nausea crashed over her relentlessly. _

_The man before her turned as the killer eyes gave her hand to him. Perhaps more terrifying than being gifted to a stranger was being gifted to one without a face. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone- stolen by fear..._

She shivered violently, yet threw off the blankets and jumped off the bed as though that might somehow rid her of Cox's eyes. Nausea's warm tide laundered over her. Steadying herself against the dresser, she waited until the sick feeling passed before turning her thoughts to another matter.

His side of the bed was empty. Again. In fact, it was most always empty. On a few occasions, he would go to bed with her, but she had yet to wake up with him next to her.

She sighed despondently, and wondered morosely if it would matter to anyone if she just disappeared. Would he care? Or just find someone else to replace her.

_The Centre would care._

But she was not so sure she cared if they did or not.

_How hard would it be to disappear for good?_

Her escape planning was interrupted by another disturbing recurrence- the soul-wrenching cries that seemingly came from behind the walls. Five out of seven nights every week she heard it for hours on end. Instinctively, she clamped her hands over her ears to shut out the plaintive bleating that she could not bare to hear.

_Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! I must be losing my mind!_

The wails grew louder and louder until they sounded like they were right in front of her. It took her several minutes to realize that it was her own sobs that had amplified the mourning.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she forced herself to stop crying and wiped away the tears that had fallen.

Once collected, she resumed the same search that she carried on every night of the cries. But this time like every time before, her head was too muddled and she was too exhausted to search properly that she could find no source for the weeping. So she huddled against the side wall of the bedroom closet with her head against the cool drywall, listening to the agony that racked some desperate soul.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _She rocked herself back and forth, seeking some form of comfort. _I'm sorry. Forgive me for not being able to find you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

In time the bawling ceased and her frayed mind quieted. Sleep weighed heavily on her lids and she attempted to drag herself to the bed. However, the nausea returned as soon as she stood and she was afraid she might actually be sick. Instead of going to the bathroom, she stumbled into the kitchen in search of a medication that might end the desire to retch. She choose an antacid and while removing it from the cabinet, absently picked up a matchbook that was careless left in the wrong spot.

Turning toward the living room with the intent of waiting to see at what hour her husband decided to come home, Amelia, still clutching the matchbook, passed by the sofa table and knocked a packet of papers off of the corner.

Gingerly, she picked them up and carried them over to the couch. Still fighting the nausea that the antacid had not helped, she tried to focus on the content of the papers in her hand. Her countenance darkened considerably once her brain began to process the meaning of the document in her hand. Her thumbnail dug into the covering of the matchbook.

In a moment her gray eyes where illuminated by the blazing head of the match as its fire consumed the paper fibers, eradicating the document from existence.


	22. Darkness Falls Interlude

_AN: Ug, updates keep coming slower and slower! But there is a light at the end of this rather dark tunnel- finals are next week then I'm home free for the summer (well, free except for work). So bear with me another week and a half and updates will be MUCH more consistent and quicker. Again, many thanks to all who are reading!_

_**NYT:** The answer to what Mia was destroying lies within the second part of Union of the Snake, but you'll have to really look for it. ;)_

_**LJP:** Ah, how I'd love to answer your question! But I guess we'll just have to see how things play out. ;) Hmm, I wonder how Lyle would react to Mia being pregnant? Would it bring them together or tear them apart? How would Lyle take having to share Mia's attention and affection? Ah! There I go- look what you started! lol ;) I love hearing your plot bunnies!_

_**Ace of Black Hearts:** I am glad to hear you love the story. I've tried my darnest to keep this series from being like every other tP story. I really appreciate your kind words, especially where Mia is concerned. I love her dearly but I am always shy about putting an OC so strongly into canon like this. Mahalo!_

_**Imag1ne:** Always love getting your reviews and insights. And I agree with you- the girl needs to do some real searching in her husband's closet; she can't sleep anyway so she might as well! ;)_

_**Gemini:** I think I figured out the issue with the chapters. A while ago I went back and combined some of the chapters that were in multiple parts. I think that's what screwed things up. Sorry about that! _

_Mahalo nui loa to everyone who is reviewing. It helps keep me going, particularly after a long absence. _

_On with the show!_

* * *

**Darkness Falls: Interlude**

"_The Darkness has begun. There will be no dawn." - J.R.R. Tolkien_

* * *

"_I don't think I need to tell you that we are not pleased with this recent turn of events."_

"_No. You don't. I am just as unhappy."_

"_Then why did you not intervene?"_

"_I have not exactly been a proactive player thus far."_

"_Perhaps that needs to change."_

"_Yes, perhaps. But I doubt Cox will be to happy with that."_

"_I don't particularly care about Mr. Cox's happiness- he should have been more in control of the subjects to begin with. If he had we would not be dealing with this now."_

"_I agree fully, of course. However, I don't see what difference it makes if the marriage is valid or not."_

"_It makes a world of difference. A valid marriage may lead him to believe that he has some control over what happens to the Project."_

"_He would think that regardless. He believes he has infinitely more power than he does. Besides, you know he possesses strong rogue tendencies."_

"_Yes, but I am not so perturbed by that as I am by the fact that it was he who initiated the marriage validation. Had she been the one to coax him to do so, you might be able to convince me that he was merely playing along. You cannot convince me of that now."_

"_And the problem is...?"_

"_The problem is I was assured that he could not become emotionally attached to the Project... **you** assured me that he was incapable of such attachment."_

"_He **is**."_

"_Then how do you explain his actions, Parker!"_

"_You know how Lyle is! He probably thinks he was something to gain by all this, probably plotting something."_

"_He has stalled the Project immensely. Cox's report from the last session was not good."_

"_Yes, I know."_

"_I expect you to do what is necessary, Parker."_

"_You know I will."_

_"Even if Removal is necessary."_

_"I will have no issue with that if that is what it comes down to."_

_"You won't?"_

_"No, it's not as though you're talking about Removing my daughter."_

_"No, we're not... just your... son..."_

_"You will not encounter any problems from me, I can assure you of that."_

"_Yes... I know you well, Parker...Of course, the Director is not to know of our involvement..."_

"_Yes, of course, Adama..."_


	23. Illusions of Reality

_**AN:** I bet you all thought I'd given up on this story, didn't ya? Jarod caused me writer's block for a while, but I'm beyond that now. Yea! But... the problem now is I'll have two weeks less of Christmas break to write- I have to go back when the kids do because I'm student teaching next semester. I'm going to write as much as I can before then. Thank you all so much for your support. I really appreciate it. You have helped me become a better, more aware writer (as you can clearly see when you read a Whiter Shade of Pale and it's rewrite that I'm also working on- Tell No Secrets, Tell No Lies). Love you guys. ;cD_

_This is just a small part- more to come, but I thought everyone might need time to reread the story before we really get back into it._

_**Just a reminder:** this takes place after Jarod found his father but before he found his sister. _

_**LJP:** I have a whole case of pens for you as I'm sure you'll need them in the upcoming chapters. ;) The Adama of the tP-verse wasn't mentioned at all that I'm aware of until Island of the Haunted and I had forgotten about the Adama of BG. Sorry about any confusion there!_

_**NYT:** Family, indeed! A Lorelei Gilmore quote comes to mind: "Nothing screws up a family like a family". And it does seem as though Daddy Parker has pegged Lyle as the evil (disposable) twin. I wouldn't be surprised if the old coot issues a Z3 file on his son before this is all over with! ;c)_

_**Gemini**: Thank you kindly. But I do hope to be getting out longer chapters for you all. _

_**Phi4858:** Ah, welcome back! I've missed you and hope all is well. I'm glad you're still reading. _

_**Miravisu:** Hey! Someone caught the Nikita tribute- yea! Lol Unfortunately for Mia it was anything but a test. We'll see the whole scenario in detail soon. And I am so happy that you like Mia (making a good OC is tough work!), thank you for letting me know. Adama certainly does mean trouble... big time. _

_Mahalo nui loa to everyone reading and reviewing. :)_

_Lyrics by Evanescence_

* * *

_Illusions of Reality_

**_Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside. Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...  
Lithium, I want to stay in love with my sorrow. Oh, but God, I want to let it go. _**

What little light that was trapped in the room with him fought to survive within the strangling darkness just as he did.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

_**Come to bed, don't make me sleep alone. Couldn't hide the emptiness, you let it show.  
Never wanted it to be so cold. Just didn't drink enough to say you love me. **_

I can't hold on to me, Wonder what's wrong with me.

In the corner of the room, to the left of the tub he had been submerged in, the light gathered its photons together. He watched this curious display through red, burning eyes sapped dry by the tears that had stopped falling several hours before.

As the light tried to converge into a long lean silhouette, he tried to lift his head. He cried out as blinding pain ripped through his body, but no sound came forth; his vocal cords were sore and useless from the screams they had forced from him for hours before.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

_**Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside. Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...  
Lithium, I want to stay in love with my sorrow.**_

The silhouette was more defined now with features and expressions visible even to his blurry sight. The illuminated figure seemed to be staring at him inquisitively. He shuddered under that watchful gaze, unnaturally afraid of the fantasy.

It drew closer and the light fell away, leaving a person behind. He closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the searing anguish of lids closing over dehydrated eyes. The person continued to close in on him, gingerly cross the icy concrete floor. It stop briefly to take in the surroundings and brushed its hair from its face, revealing delicate feminine features.

_Drip... drip...drip..._

_Don't want to let it lay me down this time. Drown my will to fly. Here in the darkness I know myself. Can't break free until I let it go. Let me go.  
_

Exhaustion overcame him and his head fell involuntarily to the side forcing his eyes open. From the corner of those eyes, he saw beads of dark liquid dropping to the floor. He knew that fluid, but his brain could not process what it was.

_Drip... drip... drip..._

Her movement caught his attention and he saw her floating above him. He drew in a sharp breath of panic.

_No! No! No_... his mind cried when he saw her face. _This isn't fair! Haven't I suffered enough?_

He wished for vainly for someone else to be with him in his chamber of horrors- his sister, his wife, Jarod even... but not _her._

He tried to resist looking into her eyes; he did not want to see the disappointment, disgust, and fear of him in her eyes.

His breath began to gasp out in uneven spurts.

_Drip... drip.. drip..._

She sat on the edge of the bedframe where he was lay immobilized, perplexed that her presence distressed him so. She reached out a thin hand to touch his cheek, to calm him, but just before contact he began to whimper.

_Go away,_ he begged silently. _Please just leave me alone._

From somewhere in the room came a rude snicker that caused him tremble more.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

_**"Bobby...?"**_

He twitched violently and his eyes snapped open at the name only living person called him by. What bothered him more than the name used was the kindness entwined into it. He looked up, finally locking gazes with her.

Of all the reactions she might have to him that he conjured up at one time or another, he had never anticipated this one. For every imagine response, he had a retort, a rebuff, a cutting remark, but now he was rendered speechless by this unforeseen turn- by her concern for him.

He had never been one who knew how to responded to compassion nor how to respond in kind. He was being forced to learn with his wife, but it was not something that came naturally to him; if anything it went against his nature, against all his training, against everything he had been imprinted with.

He watched in bewildered disarray as tears filled her eyes. There a strange tenderness in her expression- a tenderness that seemed reserved for him alone. Why would she cry for him?

_Drip... drip... drip..._

**_Darling, I forgive you after all. Anything is better than to be alone. And in the end I guess I had to fall. Always find my place among the ashes._ **

_Save it! _He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to push away her hand and tell her: S_ave it for your daughter, the one you really love!_

Her expression changed slightly, the tenderness was now twinged sadness. It was as if she could somehow read his mind and his callous thoughts were the reason for her sorrow. Guilt slugged heavily in the stomach.

_I didn't mean it!_ He tried unsuccessfully to verbalize. The snickering grew louder in his ears.

She leaned in close to him and lovingly stroked his hair with a touch so light he could not feel it, then, with a linger look, stood to leave. As she turned her back on him, he panicked.

"Mo-o-" He tried to form the word, to say the name that was so oft a baby's first word. But the feel, the sound, was too foreign, too unfamiliar on his lips that he got no more that half of the syllable out.

_Drip...drip...drip..._

_**I can't hold on to me, Wonder what's wrong with me.  
**_

She turned back to him with a smile that conveyed all a mother's love and understanding. _I know,_ she seemed to say, _why you are the way you are, why don't know me, and I don't hold it against you._

The small beams of light returned to cling here, making it difficult to see her.

_No! Don't go! Don't leave me! Please..._

The liquid droplets that continued to fall distracted him momentarily and when he looked back, she was nearly gone. He thought if he could concentrate solely on her and not the maddening dripping, she would stay with him. He tried abjectly to ignore drip, drip, drip of the aqueous beads, to shut out the maniacal laughter that haunted him, but he could not. All he could hear and see was the _drip... drip... drip..._

_Of** his** blood... blood... blood..._

_**  
Lithium, don't want to lock me up inside. Lithium, don't want to forget how it feels without...  
Lithium, ...stay in love with my sorrow. I'm gonna let it go.  
**_


End file.
